


Beauty and the Beast

by imagineagreatadventure



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Disney, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineagreatadventure/pseuds/imagineagreatadventure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The most beautiful love story ever told."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Her Looks Have Got No Parallel

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to both merrymegtargaryen and justagirl24 for looking over this story! You both have really helped me cement ideas down and helped me figure out what is/isn't working. 
> 
> To those who have read my collection of prompt fills that is titled "Fairy Tale Endings", you may recognize some parts of this story from there, although I have tweaked some stuff. 
> 
> To the rest of you, I hope you enjoy the story.

_ “Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold.  Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.  The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart.  And as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.  Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his **31st year**. If he could learn to love another, and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.  _

_ As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. **For who could ever learn to love a beast?”** _

* * *

The rooftops of the village glittered in the morning light - the orange, autumn sun providing a glowing radiance to the provincial village of Tarth. 

However, Brienne cared not for the pretty picture the village provided. Instead, she frowned as she walked the path into town, fearful of what they would say to her today.

Brienne the Beauty she was called by her neighbors in whispers loud enough for her to hear. She tried not to pay it any mind for it was a cruel jape, one that made her ears burn with shame and sadness. She was no beauty - truly she was the ugliest girl in the village due to her height and frame. The Septa, who taught all of the village girls, typically made Brienne an example of _who_ _not to be_ , humiliating Brienne and causing the other girls to laugh and jeer. 

_“Brienne the Beauty,”_ they sang at her, laughing, day after day, causing tearful, young Brienne to seek refuge in the village armory. Ser Goodwin, a knight of the realm who worked within the armory, felt pity for the young girl and comforted her with words and a hand on the shoulder. Out of this comfort, a friendship grew, leading Brienne down the path of swords and armor.

Causing the jeers in the village to become both louder and quieter all at once. 

So Brienne had little to care for as she entered the village, a basket on her elbow. She looked warily back and forth at the people emerging from their homes as if expecting the villagers to start speaking about her immediately. 

She had not visited the village in some time - her cottage was on the outskirts and there was little need to go in - her father was the one who enjoyed the marketplace and Ser Goodwin came to visit her when he wanted to train. She had no need of the people there other than him, so she avoided the village as much as possible.

But her father was busy now, concentrating on his invention, and so she had to go to the market today. Most of her shopping went well, until she made her way to the baker, who looked up at her, gaping at her height. The baker was new to the town and had not met her but once or twice, so her face and height were still novel to him. 

Cringing, she tried not to look the baker in the eye as she paid him, placing the money in his grubby hand. His smiled rang false to her so she backed away as soon as she placed the bread in her basket and headed to the stand that sold eggs. 

But before she could, Ronnet Connington got in her way. 

“Brienne the Beauty,” he sneered at her, his words worsened by the smell of alcohol on his breath. _It was much too early to drink_ , she thought, trying to evade him, but he pushed her into a corner, his friends, the Kettleblack brothers, leering at her beside him.

_If_ _I only had my sword_ , Brienne thought savagely, grasping her basket’s handle as if it was her sword’s hilt.

“Ronnet,” she replied, looking at him in the eye. Ser Goodwin told her not to show fear in the eyes of her enemies and Ronnet was certainly her enemy. 

The man had been her betrothed when Brienne was a girl and told her father in her hearing that he hoped that she grew into her looks. When Brienne reached the age of a woman, Ronnet had sneered at her and threw a rose at her feet, and told her that this was all she’d have from him, that she was too _ugly_ to marry.

Brienne had been unable to look at a rose since.

He had haunted her after that moment, unable to let his rejection rest in her heart, being one of the few to call her “Brienne the Beauty” to her face, usually bringing around the Kettleblack brothers to help him taunt her. 

She was the only one in the village who hated him and somehow this made her feel even more solitary - in a place where she felt almost empty.

“What have you there?” Ronnet demanded, grabbing her basket. “Something for your mad father, I suspect,” he added, laughing cruelly. At the thought of her father, Brienne gained some heart and courage. She tore the basket away from Ronnet and stomped on his foot. Cursing, he moved aside and nodded to make sure the Kettleblacks did the same.

Brienne moved past them, her head held high, although she heard the snickers behind her. She wondered why they had even bothered her if that was all they wanted. Why was it such a good sport for them? To mock her, to let her know how worthless she was to them?

She hated it - she hated _them._

Unable to force herself to go to the egg stall after hearing the cruel laughter, and upon realizing there would be more of it awaiting her throughout the village marketplace, she went home, to her cottage, where her father awaited. 

“Brienne, darling?” Selwyn asked as she came in, “Oh good, it is you, I was worried that someone wanted to complain about the noises coming from our cottage.”

“Have there been explosions again, Father?” Brienne asked, placing her basket full of goods out on the table. Explosions were quite normal to her after years of her father’s inventions. 

Her father looked at the goods with a close eye and smiled, “No, no explosions today, I suspect you would have seen it even from the village.”

Brienne glanced over her father’s schematics. “What are you working on?” she asked, curious. Her father’s inventions were always ingenious - sometimes too much so as they didn’t work with the materials he had. 

“Automatic wood chopper,” he responded, “Same as always. I think this one will work though. I have it built downstairs if you want to see.”

Brienne was startled. She hadn't realized he had been working so hard recently, “It’s finished?”

Selwyn laughed, “Of course it is, the fair is in two days.”

She looked over the schematics again, embarrassed that she had forgotten. It was so soon, “You’ll win first prize.”

Her father got out of his chair and kissed her forehead. He was the only man in the entire village who towered over her, “You’re a sweet girl, Brienne. Don’t lose that.”

Brienne tried not to wonder what he meant as he and his invention rode away on Brienne’s bay mare away later that day.

She hoped he would come back quickly.

* * *

When her father didn’t come back from the fair immediately in the days following, Brienne was not worried. He often took days to look at others’ works, and sometimes he became smitten with a young maiden, oftentimes a woman not too much older than herself. 

It did not bother Brienne as much as it ought, she knew, because she just wished for her father’s happiness. 

He had so little since they lost her mother and brother and sisters, before they moved to this dreadful village, when she was just a small girl (for even Brienne had been small), that she couldn’t begrudge him momentary happiness. 

They all left him anyhow, when they realized that he was never going to marry them. That he wasn’t worth much more than a small cottage in a village and a stepdaughter who was near their age. 

She sighed and plucked one of the flowers blooming by her feet. 

Brienne was sitting out in the grassy, wild fields by her home, enjoying one of the last warm days of autumn, before the long winter came. The grass was staining her dark pants, which belonged to her father, but she paid it little mind, instead twirling the flower in her hand. 

She wished that she wasn’t so alone - that someone, other than Ser Goodwin, kind soul that he was, and her father, her dear father, liked her for who she was at heart - that they understood that she wanted more than to be a broodmare. That she wanted to do more than die in childbirth as her mother did. 

No one sang of mothers dying in their birthing beds. They sang of true knights of old, of good and evil, of slaying the beast, of _true love_. 

Brienne knew that the last of those was the least likely to happen to her. 

She wasn’t sure if it made her sad or not, she didn’t plan on marrying no matter what happened. Although sometimes she felt sad for her father. Their line would die with her. 

A neigh in the distance disturbed her melancholy thoughts. Brienne looked up to see her bay mare approaching. 

Alone.

Curious, she lurched up from the grass, wondering if her father had detached the contraption and was lugging it himself - or had sold it and was walking behind - or -

“Father?” she called out, as she jogged towards the horse. 

He wasn’t behind the bay mare - only his invention was and it looked no worse for the wear. In fact, it looked like it had not been detached even once.

Brienne patted the horse on the nose, for the poor thing looked hungry and distraught, and resolved to get the mare a carrot while she settled her thoughts.

Once the horse was fed, stabled, and detached from her Father’s invention, Brienne allowed herself to worry about her father.

He wasn’t with the horse.

What could that mean?

Brienne looked back at the mare, who looked at her and neighed as if she was trying to say _something_ , and Brienne suddenly wished she could speak horse. 

“I’ll be back,” she promised the mare, for some silly reason _,_ and went to ready her things. Her father’s armor from the war was hidden away in his closet, Brienne had to wear it a few times when working with Goodwin, but still a tremor ran through her when she put on the breastplate.

Armored and equipped with her sword, Brienne felt almost like a hero of old ready to do battle with a villain.

But all she really wanted to do was find her father alive and well.

The mare was strong and held Brienne’s weight, including the armor. Brienne still felt nervous though, entering the woods beyond the fields.  

The woods had frightened her as a child even before she had lived in Tarth. “They belong to the Children of the Forest,” her brother Galladon, when he was still living, had said to her, before jumping out and tackling her, giggling all the while. 

The forest was dark and spooky to her even as a woman grown, one who had been flowered for years. Direwolves haunted it even if the Children didn’t and rapers and thieves prowled the hidden paths in the forest, looking for their new victims. It wasn’t a safe place for anyone and so she was worried for her father’s safety now that he was missing. Brienne typically didn’t have to worry for him, he was a large, strong man with a background as a soldier, but he was growing older, and now he could not protect her - she could only protect him. 

The trail was cold, but her mare seemed to know where she was going, taking her to the right, rather than the left, when the path split, despite the signs posting that the fair had been the other way. 

Brienne thought about forcing the horse the correct way but her instinct suggested that she should follow the horse’s lead. 

And so she followed it.

It was quiet for some time in the wood, although Brienne felt the autumn disappear as they rode. _Winter is coming,_ she thought, frowning at the old words that the singers dreamed up. Perhaps once they meant something more, but now all it meant that she was cold and needed a fire to warm her bones.  

The castle appeared then, almost as if she willed it into existence with her wish. Brienne had heard of the castle before as it was the source of many a childhood tale, growing up so near it. However, she could not recall the name of the broken palace, all she knew was that it was cursed. No man had ever held the castle and not fell apart at the seams, almost like Brienne’s cloth doll that her sisters ruined lifetimes ago, pulling at it and tearing at it until it was nothing but threads. 

And so when Brienne found her father’s straw hat by the entrance of the castle, she wished she had not. 

“Why, Father?” she begged, almost angrily, pushing the gate open that led to the castle’s doors.

She did not want to enter the castle. It seemed like a place of doom and destruction and Brienne couldn’t help but believe in the curse as she looked at it. She adjusted her armor once more before forcing herself into the castle. It was dark and dreary, and looked like something out the nightmares she used to have as a little girl, the ones before her mother died. 

She put her fear aside, knowing that her father could be dead or dying, and called out, “Father? Are you here?”

Silence.

Moving slowly, she gripped the hilt of her sword, prepared for an attacker, and then she heard a sound and saw light traveling up a dim passageway, “You!” she yelled, “Come back!”

But when she arrived at the top of the lengthy tower, there was no one there - except her father who was locked in a cell. “Father!” she cried, moving towards him and gripping the bars of the cell. He reached for her and Brienne shivered.

His hands were freezing.

“Brienne, you must leave, you can’t kill this beast, he’s too dangerous, too strong, let me die here-”

“What are you talking about?” Brienne said, examining the lock, “I’m getting you out of this cell.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a frightening voice said behind her. His voice was cold as her father’s hands.

“Run, Brienne!” her father whispered, but Brienne stood by her father’s prison and pulled out her sword, “Who are you?” she demanded, “What has my father done to deserve your wrath?”

“He trespassed here.”

“So have I. Are you going to throw me in here as well? I will kill you before you do.”

The owner of the voice laughed, “I can’t believe this is what I have to put up with after years of waiting.”

Brienne didn’t understand and stood still, waiting for an attack. It was much too dark to see who was speaking or where in the room he was even standing and it made her wary. 

“Are you going to let him go or am I going to have to kill you?” she said at last, tired of waiting for the mysterious man to speak again.

The owner laughed again, “You wouldn’t be able to.”

“He’s right, Brienne, run,” her father whispered behind her back, but she ignored him.

She felt like she was being watched and she hated it. She hated knowing that the man could see her and she couldn’t see him, “How about we make a deal… wench,” he said at last, after she said nothing.

“If I let your Father go, you’ll be in my debt, correct?” the voice continued.

Brienne nodded, although she was reluctant to do so.

“Then, being in my debt, you’ll have to stay here, as my guest.” 

“No, Brienne,” her father protested but Brienne could hear his coughs and it worried her.

“For how long?” she asked. 

“To be determined later.”

She didn’t like that one bit, “Why is my father so frightened by you?”

There was silence and then, “He doesn’t quite like my appearance.”

Her father coughed, “He’s a monster, Brienne. Like the ones in the songs.”

Brienne stared into the darkness and made herself speak, “Come into the light.”

Within a moment, she could see why her father was so frightened. The man was no man at all, but a giant creature who stood on hind legs and the head of a lion, with piercing, terrible _human_ eyes. He wore little clothes and his green eyes were piercing and terrible.

_The castle was cursed, after all._

She looked away and he snarled, “Even a beast can’t stand to look at a beast.”

The comment stung but also made Brienne pity him. She understood the curse of ugliness all too well. “I’ll… be in your debt, Ser. But only if you promise not to harm me or any other visitors. And that you’ll help my father get safely home.” 

The Beast smiled, or rather, made a poor attempt at one, “Done.”

Her father cried out when he was released. “No, Brienne, you don’t understand,” he grasped at her, holding her shoulders, “He may kill you.”

“I’ll be fine, Father,” Brienne swore. _As long as you are_ , she thought.

“Get him out of here, he’s making a nuisance,” the Beast declared, to invisible creatures.

Or so Brienne thought, until the metal of the cell became a living being who cuffed her father and pushed him down the stairs. 

“Father!” she cried and he called her name as well, sounding sad and frightened.

Brienne almost grabbed her sword then, but remembered her promise and frowned instead, looking towards the Beast, “Why couldn’t you spare us a moment to say goodbye?”

The Beast laughed at her and Brienne winced. “All he would have done was blather at you about how dangerous I am. Although,” he paused, “I am dangerous.”

“So am I,” she retorted, wishing that she had just tried to kill him. Even if she had died… perhaps it would be better than _this_.

As if he could read her thoughts, he bared his teeth and laughed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter may be a while, as I have many things to write, and I want to make sure it's perfect, but I'm hoping it will be out soon.
> 
> But yes this is very much inspired by Disney's beautiful (wink wink) take on Beauty and the Beast, which, cough I'm a sap cough, is my favorite film of all time so I'm trying to make everything perfect for my favorite film and my favorite otp.
> 
> Gee I wonder why they're my favorite otp. ;)


	2. 'Til You Shout Enough I'm Done!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne attempts to uphold her end of the bargain but can't handle it after a disastrous dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to write but I hope you enjoy it!

The Beast, after driving her father off, took her to a room, “Yours,” he announced, almost pushing her into it.  

It was a very pretty room especially in contrast to the rest of the castle which seemed like something out of a fireside tale. But her room was beautiful - with painted, blue walls, large, airy windows, and the largest bed Brienne had ever seen in her short life. 

“You shall be dining with me every morn, noon, and night - no exceptions. All of the castle is for your pleasure except the West Wing,” the Beast growled, before slamming her door and presumably locking her in. Brienne wasn’t even able to ask _why_ she could not go to the West Wing when he left her. 

Brienne examined her room, resigned to her fate as a ward, guest, and hostage.

At least she wasn’t to stay in the tower as she originally thought. She shivered, remembering the cold that seeped into her bones when she found her father there. He had looked so frightened and old - she had not seen him look so terrible since her siblings had died. 

They lost so much that night and now tonight… they lost each other.

Brienne closed her eyes and sank into the abnormally large bed after she removed her armor. It was so soft and warm, but still it could not stop her from feeling so tired and sad. She tried not to weep and focused on removing her armor, anything to take away the pain and the memories from her previous life as the daughter of Selwyn. 

At least, in this life, she would not be the ugliest creature.

The thought didn’t cheer her as well as it should have. Brienne remembered the Beast’s green eyes that lit up in the dark tower, so human and so piercing that she forgot, for a moment, that he was a Beast at all.

Perhaps it was her own ugly features that made her so sympathetic, she supposed, frowning at the mirror across from her bed. She was surprised the Beast had not destroyed all the mirrors in the castle but there it was sitting across from her, showing every freckle, every blemish, as well as her large teeth that poked out from her wide lips.

She did cry then. Not for her appearance for she had given crying up for that the moment Ronnet Connington threw a rose at her feet, but for her family, for her freedom, for her hopes and dreams that were now all ruined forever.  Brienne could not defeat the Beast when she was his guest - it’d be dishonorable to even attempt such a thing. Dishonorable even to think it and yet she did so anyhow, desperate to be home with her father, because despite how much she hated the village, _she loved her father_. 

There was a knock on her door and Brienne frowned as she looked to it. Would a Beast truly knock? Wouldn’t he break down the door?

But remembering her deal, Brienne wiped her face, not eager to show the Beast any sign of weakness or discouragement, and went to open the door.

There was not a soul there, much to her surprise, she even peeked her head around the door, trying to see something in the darkness.

“I believe you need to look down below,” a voice said dryly.

Brienne did as the voice said and gasped.

For below her was a candelabra, full of unlit candles as well as a minuscule face, that expressed a dry sort of amusement.

“I was never tall, so do not worry, I am not offended at your… _mistake_ ,” he said, hopping into the room, in a casual sort of way. It almost reminded of little boys and girls playing games where they hopped along the street. 

But then he reminded her of no child and instead she remembered he was made up of steel and candles and fire. She couldn't stop herself from gaping at him as he blew into his… arms? Fire grew out of the candles, and she could see him better. 

The candelabra frowned… _no_ , Brienne shook her head, candelabras don't frown. Then again, beasts didn’t talk. What manic world had she entered? 

“Who are you?” she asked cautiously.

“Tyrion,” the candelabra said simply, “But I believe the better question is who are you?”

“Brienne,” she told it, trying not to staring too hard at the candelabra. She never enjoyed being stared at, after all. 

“Is that all there is to it?” the candelabra, no, Tyrion asked, smirking. 

Brienne looked away, seeing a candelabra smirk was too much for her to handle, “I’m from the village of Tarth.”

“Brienne of Tarth,” he mused. “A simple peasant girl here to -“

“I am not simple,” she flared, looking back toward it- _him_ , “And I’m not here to do anything but fulfill my deal. And you say your name is Tyrion but why are you - “

Tyrion interrupted her, “An object? Not human? Speaking? Well, I cannot answer that. Or I could but Varys would kill me and then you all would be bereft. We cannot have anymore grief in this castle, I think the moats would be flooded with all the tears that have been wept here.”

Brienne tried to remember if she had crossed a moat before she thought upon his words more carefully. Beasts, talking objects, what else could this be but -  

“Now, Brienne,” he said, interrupting her thought, “I believe that it is my turn to explain why I am here. I am to escort you to dinner with, well, you met him, and possibly introduce you to any servants or other guests along the way.”

“There are other guests like me?” Brienne asked, although she wasn’t sure if she was hopeful or surprised. 

The candelabra looked her over with amusement and she tried not to squirm at the appraisal, “I do not believe anyone here is like you.”

Brienne wasn’t sure what that meant so she frowned at him, preparing herself for an insult, but he sauntered and hopped away waving to indicate that she should follow him out the door.

“Shouldn’t I change?” Brienne asked, feeling uncomfortable wearing just a shift and pants. 

“Do as you will,” he said, “I shall wait outside if you feel the need to change. But I’m not sure if we’ll have anything that will…. fit you. Although… that can be changed. We do have some very talented _seamstresses_ amongst our guests.”

Brienne did not like the way he said seamstresses but nodded, “I shall go like this then.”

“Don’t worry,” he commented glibly while guiding her out the door, “He’s not expecting to be impressed.”

* * *

The Beast stared at her when she sat down across from him. The table was longer than her entire cottage in Tarth. How many people could it sit? 

No matter how many it could sit in the castle's glorious past, it only sat two now.

“I thought there were other guests,” Brienne murmured. 

The Beast snorted, “Tyrion. Ignore him, there are no guests- only servants now.”

She looked sharply at him, “Are you enslaving them?”

His teeth were sharp as he threw her a terrible smile, one that made her unwillingly shudder, “They’re as free as I am.”

Brienne wasn’t sure what to say to that, so looked down at her soup instead. It had already been set when she arrived, and she sipped at it, surprised at the quality. “This is very good,” she muttered. 

“Were you expecting otherwise?” the Beast barked before slamming his own bowl onto his face. He lapped at it the way Brienne imagined a mangy, starving dog would and she was unable to stop staring at him.

“What?” he snapped, “Staring at the Beast, are you?” 

Brienne swallowed her soup and her fear. “Yes, you look ridiculous.”

“I look ridiculous?” he thundered, “You’re a giant woman playing as a man. Wearing armor and playing with swords as if you understood what it meant to be a warrior. As if you knew what it meant to kill a man.”

“Have you killed a man?” 

His teeth shined in the candlelight, “I’ve killed many men.”

She got up, unable, “I can’t eat with you.” 

“Because I’m a killer?” he looked unamused, “You do have a woman’s heart, after all, despite your armor and sword.”

"No! It's because you’re terrible. Trying to frighten me into submission as if I was a little girl you could scare. I have dealt with worse than you,” Brienne said, thinking upon the men in her village. “All my life your type have sneered at me, and all my life I’ve been proving them wrong.”

“My type? I don’t believe I have a type. Unless you know another Beast? I’d love to be introduced if you do,” he stated, a terrible sort of irony embedded in his words.

Brienne glared, “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have tried to talk to you.”

“You could have just not spoke at all, wench.”

Brienne wished she had her sword, she could not take much more of this nonsense, “Where is Tyrion? I wish to go back to my room.”

“He will not come until I call.”

“Fine,” she stated, her chin high and stubborn. Her father remarked on it often as she grew up. She leapt away from her seat, “I shall look by myself.”

The Beast roared then, startling her, “You shall do no such thing,” he warned.  

_What was he so afraid of,_ she wondered before staring him down, her eyes narrowed. He roared again and soon Tyrion arrived, as if he was summoned, and the little candelabra hopped onto to the table.

“Stop that,” Brienne could hear Tyrion quietly hiss at the Beast but the Beast paid the candelabra no mind, his eyes frantic and animalistic.

But Tyrion’s other words, that Brienne could not hear, seemed to calm the creature well enough that the Beast’s green eyes came back into focus. 

“Get out of my sight,” he snarled at Tyrion and Brienne both. Brienne gladly followed his command and followed Tyrion into the dark hallway, hoping that she could sleep without dreaming of the Beast’s terrible eyes.

* * *

 When Brienne awoke the next morning, she had forgotten where she was for a moment. The bed was too soft compared to her lumpy mattress, the sunlight was too pink as it streamed through the long windows and the rose-colored drapes, and the silk canopy above her looked nothing like her wooden ceiling. 

There was a deal, she remembered, trying not to move too much - the bed truly was comfortable. A deal with a terrible beast but was it a dream?

It had to have been a dream.

Beasts did not look like _that._  

And candelabras did not speak.

Yet she was lying in a bed that she knew did not belong to anyone but the walking, talking Beast that had imprisoned her father and caught her in a deal that she would never be able to get out of. 

If she had the energy to wail, Brienne might have done so. But the previous day’s events had drained her, even after a long sleep. 

“Good morning,” a voice chirped at her, from the ground. “I hope you are ready for your fitting.”

Suddenly petrified, Brienne looked down and saw her worst fear. _More talking objects_. 

It was a needle, a spool of thread, a pincushion, as well as a measuring tape. All of which had voices, as the spool and the needle were talking over one another, while the pincushion, Brienne hated to see, glared at them all, with an almost maternal look. A maternal look from a pincushion. 

Brienne went back under her coverlet and tried not to scream.

“Brienne?” one of the objects asked, “Lady Brienne are you all right?”

Brienne almost laughed, although she almost wanted to cry, when she threw her coverlet aside, “I’m no lady.”

“You are a lady in this house,” the pincushion remarked, in a stern voice, “Now dear I’m Lady Catelyn,”

“Mother!” the needle and the spool chimed together.

Children, they were children, Brienne realized with horror. What had happened here?

“You’re not supposed to say titles,” the spool reminded her, “Varys will be very upset.”

“So will Tyrion, probably,” the needle added with… a roll of its eyes, “But who cares, Sansa?”

“Arya!” the spool named Sansa said, the little eyes on the spool wide and scandalized. 

Brienne knelt down on the floor in order to see them all better.

The measuring tape was much more silent than the rest, which Brienne appreciated, although it too moved on its own. Why some objects in this castle were silent and immovable, and others were movable and silent, and the rest seemed to be both movable and not silent, Brienne could not understand.  

“What is happening?” Brienne finally asked, bewildered by all of this attention.

“You are to dine with… the _master_ ,” Lady Catelyn said, although she hedged when said the title. 

“The Beast you mean?” 

The little needle twirled in the air, “That’s what I call him,” it- she, Brienne realized as she suspected not many little boys were named Arya, said. 

The pincushion hopped over to her daughter, “Arya, that is enough.” The pincushion directed its attention to Brienne again, “I’m sorry, my dear, but could you stand up, we’d like to measure you.” 

Brienne nodded and stood up weakly and the measuring tape wrapped around her waist before she could say a thing.

The spool of thread ignored both her mother and her sister and chimed, “You’re going to look so beautiful once we make your dress!” 

“Won’t that take long?” Brienne asked, as the measuring tape removed itself from her waist and began to measure her height. 

“No! Of course not!” Lady Catelyn said, “It will be done by the time you’re back from breakfast with the master.” 

Brienne shook her head, “I can’t go - I can’t meet him again.” She had dealt with worse than the Beast’s taunts but this was all - too ridiculous. Talking objects, a Beast who thought like a man? 

And her father was gone from her… possibly forever.

She couldn't deal with his cruel japes now. 

The objects glanced at each other meaningfully, “But you must!” Lady Catelyn finally said, her voice a little high. 

“I agreed to be his guest not his dining companion,” Brienne said, aware that she was being stubborn. “And he behaved most ungentlemanly at dinner.”

The little needle made a snorting sound while her sister shushed her. The measuring tape ignored them all and measured the length of Brienne’s arms. Brienne typically hated being measured, but it was somehow reassuring that there were no human women in the room. She wasn’t so much of an oddity when the pincushion was able to speak. 

“And what would I wear to breakfast anyhow?” Brienne countered before one of the objects could say anything, “I doubt there will be dresses that fit _me_.”

“We were going to give you men’s clothes,” the spool said, smiling hesitantly at Brienne. As if the spool could not understand the appeal.

But a thought occurred to Brienne then, as the little spool spoke. “Then bring them to me and I shall get changed. May I ask for a tour of the castle before I eat with the Master?” 

“They’re already sitting in your dresser, Lady Brienne,” Lady Catelyn said, “But do be wary of -“

“Of me,” the dresser spoke when Brienne approached it. Its eyes were heavy and dark atop the frame of the dresser, looking almost decorative, but her mouth looked like a painted rose petal that opened. 

Brienne silently cursed the old and the new gods. She had never been alone in her room at all.

“Why have you been silent this whole time?” Brienne asked the dresser.

“And ruin the surprise?” the dresser asked drolly, “Why I could never.”

“Olenna,” Lady Catelyn sharply reprimanded.

“You are no fun,” the dresser replied, making the spool and needle giggle. “But here is your…. menswear, dear girl. I admire you for wearing it, I wish I had on hot summer days when I was a girl. It’d be much better than having your legs stick together under those heavy dresses -“

Brienne interruped Olenna’s musings, “So you were human once.” 

“Once upon a time… long ago it seems now,” Olenna said, looking as if she was itching to get back to the time of heavy dresses and hot weather, instead of her current days of being an immobile object, “Even longer before that I was a girl of your age, but that doesn’t matter now. What’s past is past, the future is what matters, and your future requires you to get changed into your clothes, dear.” 

Clothes other than the dirty ones she wore to bed sounded nice. 

But she still wasn’t going to eat with _him._

She changed quickly into the pants and shirt she was offered when Olenna opened her drawers. A moth flew out making the needle and spool giggle and Olenna sighed, “It’s just been so long since anything has gotten any use in this castle.”

Brienne would have asked what that meant if she thought the wardrobe would answer but instead decided to focus on her pants, which were too short, they barely reached her ankles. It was annoying but Brienne tried not to show her frustration, instead smiling politely at the objects and thanking them for their care. 

The smiled back and promised new outfits that would fit her perfectly but Brienne almost wished they wouldn’t bother. No dress looked right on her, she just wasn’t feminine enough for it - or so the dressmaker in Tarth said. 

As did her Septa.  

But Brienne shook away those thoughts and marched out of her room without help from the objects, discreetly grabbing her sword and scabbard... _just in case_. She told them she knew where she was going, that she remembered how to get to the dining hall now that she’d been back and forth from it and that much was true.   She did recall the directions to the dining hall.

Although, she had no intention of going to the dining hall, making her feel guilty as she looked into Lady Catelyn's beady blue eyes. 

The Beast would be there waiting for her angry with hurtful japes and cruelties. She refused to be forced into conversation with such a brute. Brienne had never allowed herself to be forced into anything after Ronnet Connington’s rose and so she could not let even a monster from the tales force her into doing something she didn’t want to do.  

Brienne had her honor but she also had her pride.

So instead of following the path she took the night before with Tyrion, she turned down a different hall. Looking at the sun from the high, glass windows that littered the halls, she could tell she was heading west.  

_The West Wing_ , she suddenly recalled. The Beast had forbidden her from it. Brienne wondered why. 

“What are you doing?” a voice beside her asked as Brienne stopped to look out a window. It was very feminine yet foreign sounding and Brienne braced herself for the inevitable.

It was a feather duster. Brienne somehow managed not to groan. 

“Well?” the feather duster asked again, sounding a tad irritated that Brienne had not yet responded.

“I was exploring. I’m a guest aren’t I?” Brienne said, a tad defensive. 

The feather duster rolled her eyes. “You’re not very good at lying,” she informed Brienne. “You should join the master for breakfast before he comes looking for you.”

Brienne frowned, “I will not be joining him this morning.”

If the feather duster had eyebrows to raise, Brienne suspected they would have been raised, “Well, I’ll be sure to inform him. Where will you be instead?”

Brienne quickly tried to think of something in a castle that would interest her. _The library? The stables? The gallery?_

“The armory,” she found herself saying, “You do have an armory don’t you?”

“Go down the next flight of stairs and turn left. It will be the room with the large doors on your right,” the feather duster said, before hopping off. She looked back towards Brienne once before leaving and heading towards the dining hall, and smiled, “I am Shae... if you wanted to know.”

“I am Brienne.”

“I hope you enjoy your stay here.” 

And for once Brienne felt as if someone truly meant their words. And so she smiled, trying not to let her self-consciousness overcome her, “Thank you.”

* * *

The armory did interest Brienne (she could only imagine the sort of swords and weaponry a castle would have) but not nearly as much as the West Wing, which she tried to find as she wandered the castle.  

For a horrible moment, Brienne suspected that she would never find it, that she would die hungry, miserable, and lost in a beast’s castle. Or worse - transformed into one of those talking objects. 

She shuddered as she wandered the halls, feeling suddenly very cold and bleak. The sun’s presence wasn’t felt in this part of the castle. The windows hid from the morning’s light and Brienne could only see the sky - she couldn’t feel the warmth. 

Not that it would be warm much longer. Winter was coming and she could sense that snow would be falling very soon. The chill in her bones spoke to that.

Although the dark, unlit halls did not help. At one junction, Brienne almost tripped over a fallen marble statue of a handsome man, painted over in what looked to be gold. In another dark hall, Brienne could barely see a portrait of a family with three young children and a darkly handsome man. The light was dim but it seemed that there was a woman painted there as well although her figure was much fainter as if she was added afterwards by the artist. 

But the canvas was ripped apart. Brienne touched the edges of the holes and knew that it was the Beast that destroyed it. It looked like something that could have only happened with claws.

And finally, Brienne reached a door and something in her knew that she had reached the final barrier to the truth. With only slight hesitation, she pulled at the handle, which was made up of a hideous, monstrous face that looked not unlike the Beast, and a blast of cold air slapped her exposed skin.

She truly regretted how short her pants were at that moment, her ankles were nearly frozen.

Shivering, she grasped her arms, trying to examine the room’s contents. It was a large room with an open balcony. It looked like there was a door there once separating the balcony from the rest of the room but it was gone now, ripped from its hinges. 

This was the Beast’s room. 

There were more ripped paintings here as well as a large broken mirror. Brienne understood the mirror at least. There were times where she herself had wanted to throw a mirror to the ground after hearing the taunts of the other boys and girls when she was a child. 

Still she stepped around the floor carefully, aware that there could still be broken glass, almost tripping on a blanket that was torn to shreds. She wondered if that had been on purpose or on accident. Did a Beast need a blanket with all that fur and hair?

The room was so dark that it was only when she reached the windows and the missing door that she saw it.

_ The rose.  _

It was the only thing in the entire room that was carefully preserved and it taunted her. All she could see was Ronnet Connington's face as he threw his red rose down, laughing at her.

Brienne wanted to pull the beautiful petals off it, she wanted to break the flower apart - it should match the rest of this horrid place with its terrible, broken statues and ripped canvases of handsome men. And so she reached for it, almost enchanted by its beauty, which only made her more angry. A beautiful, glowing rose underneath a pristine glass case. There was a hand mirror beside it on the table as well but that was of no interest to Brienne. She knew what she looked like. 

She looked almost as monstrous as the Beast.

Within seconds the glass case was off and the rose hung in midair as if by magic. Brienne, almost afraid of the rose, reached out and -

“What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing?” the Beast growled behind her, his breath laced with spit. Some of it hit her ear and she winced.

Brienne had never been so afraid. Without looking at her, he plucked the glass case from the table and placed it, _almost gently,_ as if the rose was a small, sleepy child that needed to be put to bed, back where it belonged. 

What had she been doing? She had no right to destroy his rose. 

He glared at her the moment the rose was safe from her.

"I told you never to come here," he hissed, his green eyes terrible and glowing.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, feeling as if it was the only thing she could say.

“ ** _GET OUT!_** ” he roared.

Frightened, Brienne followed his instructions, dodging his anger as fast as she could.

She fled the West Wing, as the Beast screeched and roared and almost hit her. It seemed almost as if he wanted to bring out his silver sword to use against her, as he threatened as much when he cursed her, but she had run away before he could remember he had claws, too afraid to try and kill him with her own sword.

Brienne ran past his servants, ignoring their calls without even a glance, ran, and ran and _ran_ to until she reached the stables where her beautiful bay mare was and climbed on, without even thinking of her saddle. Nor sparing a moment to wonder why her horse was still there at all. 

Perhaps she should have listened, perhaps she should have avoided the West Wing as it was obviously his own private quarters but Brienne was not able to rest knowing that he could have a fierce secret hidden away there. What if the bones of the guests before her rotted away there? She had to know.

The woods were full of ice and snow and Brienne shivered. The howls of a direwolf sounded not too far off and she was suddenly terrified that she had no armor on when she explored the West Wing, wishing that she had a spare moment to put her father’s on before she ran away, for soon she may be fighting off not only a Beast but a wolf as well.

The direwolf's howls fell closer to her ears and Brienne almost wished that she had never left the enchanted castle. _Perhaps the Beast wouldn't have hurt me_ , she thought feeling foolish. She almost turned back at that moment when the direwolf leapt upon her steed. Her horse bucked and Brienne flew onto the ground, landing on her back. 

She didn't even have a moment to groan, soon there was a direwolf at her throat. No... more than one animal was attacking her - it was a direwolf and its pack of wolves. 

Brienne drew out her sword and as soon as one of the wolves leapt at her throat she stabbed it. Not enough to go through the wolf - then her sword would have been caught in the wolf's body, but enough to wound it. She then grabbed a branch that was hanging above her head and clambered up, her own foot almost bit off when the dire wolf tried to bite her. 

For a moment she was safe, and she noticed her horse was too, it had ran off back in the direction of the castle and the wolves had ignored it, focusing instead on Brienne. She wanted to curse but instead she cried, the tears freezing on her cheeks. She was going to die in the arms of a tree.

But then. . . a roar. It almost startled her out of the tree, she had to grab the branch tightly with her arms and thighs, as the wolves bared their teeth at their new opponent. 

_The Beast_ , Brienne trembled, he had come to save her. 

Or perhaps kill her himself. 

He roared again as the direwolf bit his knee and kicked it away, and then they all attacked him. All Brienne could see were bared teeth and fur and she reached for her sword and jumped back down. She had to help him.

It felt like hours, but it may have only been two minutes in which Brienne and the Beast took out the wolves. The direwolf and a few other wolves survived the attack, but limped and whimpered away from the scene. Brienne almost smiled, her joints aching, but she had survived. She began to say something to the Beast, what exactly she’d never be able to say, when he fell into the snow with a hard thunk. 

And then Brienne realized she was free of him. She could go home _._

She looked towards the path that led to Tarth, _to Father_ , and took one step towards it, but stopped and looked back towards the Beast.

The creature was face down in the cold snow, his breathing laborious, his fur matted with blood and ice. Brienne could not help but feel pity and before she realized it, she had grabbed onto his arm, and pulled him towards his castle, wincing at the effort. Her horse appeared before she could give up on that plan - the Beast was twice her size and twice her weight, it seemed. With careful maneuvering, she was able to place the Beast on top of her steed, who did not buckle under the weight.

With a sigh, Brienne guided them back to the Beast's home, where she was sure a fire awaited them both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shae in this verse is definitely more based on TV show Shae than book Shae for my own reasons lol. And oh man it took me FOREVER to figure out who should be who and if I should make up new objects so I hope you guys don't mind a weird mixture of the two (although honestly who could resist Arya as an actual needle?). And a few more servants will show up sporadically but I don't want the focus to be taken away from the main couple. Plus it is freaking hard to write enchanted objects I keep getting distracted by what that would look like in reality.
> 
> Another thing I feel like I need to mention as it might be brought up in the comments otherwise is that, since I'm a huge nerd, I know that in the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast it was intended that both the Beast and the talking objects would have become more and more like their curse if Belle had not arrived.
> 
> Which means that the Beast was becoming more and more animal-like so I'm trying to express that with Jaime's behavior. He'll, uh, buck up soon. He's just sort of in the middle of reversing a long trend of animalistic behavior. He has to learn how to be human again.
> 
> And, of course, how to love again.


	3. She Didn't Shudder At My Paw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There may be something there that wasn't there before."

The Beast watched her as she cleaned his wound. It needed stitches which made Brienne nervous. She had never been good at stitches even when it was just a dress or a pair of pants, what good would she be with human, or in this case, she realized with some distaste, _animal_ flesh?

She bit her lip as she pressed a little too hard on his arm and he roared. Her thin hair flew back and she had to close her eyes to stop them from watering. The gust of spit and wind that flew from his mouth was too much for her. 

The others huddled behind her, too afraid of the Beast’s rage and anger to help, but Brienne opened her eyes and stared him down as soon as he stopped. 

“That hurt, wench!” he snapped.

“Stop moving,” she ordered, wiping off some of the spit that had landed on her cheek and pretending as if she was not afraid. Although, she wasn’t afraid anymore, not truly, he had been too kind to her when he first stirred, half-awake and half-dreaming, his golden mane, once so beautiful, matted with ice, muttering about golden dreams.

But he bared his teeth now, to try and frighten her, or at least that was the reason she assumed, so Brienne wiped off the blood with the cloth a little harsher than she meant to. The Beast winced then and she almost felt sorry for him.

_Almost._

“Stop doing that!” he ordered as if he was a prince. She wondered if he had been a prince long ago and thought of the portrait in his room. The portrait had been ripped apart but she had seen the golden hair to match the Beast’s golden mane, and the same flashing green eyes…

He roared again and she glared, “I said stop doing that.”

The Beast glared back, “If you hadn’t run away, wench, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“My name is Brienne, not wench,” she corrected, trying not to glower at the insolent creature, “And if you hadn’t almost broken guest right, I wouldn’t have run away in the first place!”

“You shouldn’t have been in my rooms, snooping. What were you looking for anyhow?” he demanded, watching her carefully.

Brienne ducked her head then, “I don’t know.” She didn’t want to admit to her worries about dead guests. It almost seemed silly in the light of day, with him staring at her, looking more human than Beast.

But he was a _Beast_ , so how could she not wonder? Especially with the knowledge of how he treated her father, leaving him in the tower to die… or so it seemed anyhow. She had never found out if her father had been fed and cared for or what he did to receive that punishment from the Beast. 

Although knowing the Beast, her father could have just sat in the Beast’s favorite armchair. 

She glanced at it now as he sank into it, looking even more like a prince than before. But then he snorted, ruining the effect. It almost shook the chair, it was so powerful, “I’m sure you don’t know. Why on earth would you know why you were wandering around my private quarters. The one place in the castle I expressly prohibited you from entering.”

Brienne scowled, unwilling to let him win. “Well, even so, you need to learn to control your-”

He growled, “Don’t you dare say temper, wench.”

“My name is Brienne!” she said, stopping to look into his eyes. “And you need to! Look at them-” she pointed at the talking objects who hid the moment she brought the Beast’s attention on them. “Look how they’re frightened by you.”

“It’s because I’m a Beast,” he said, his green eyes looking sorrowful. Brienne had little sympathy, however.

“It’s because you’re cruel and hot-tempered,” Brienne argued, pressing the cloth on his arm once more. 

He growled again, but kept his misery quieter than he had before. “And I thought ugly women were supposed to be kind,” he sniped, although Brienne sensed little spite so she ignored his mutterings.

Looking at his cut, she remembered how the Beast came back to save her. Perhaps there was an ulterior motive, perhaps there wasn’t…

Either way, he still saved her life.

“By the way… thank you,” she said, feeling ashamed that she had not said her courtesies before, “for saving my life.”

He stopped growling then and looked at her and she shifted under his gaze. It was a piercing gaze and felt so human-like that she had to stare at his fur to remember who he was. A Beast.

“You’re welcome… Brienne.”

“My name is Brienne,” she automatically corrected and then flushed when she realized he had said her name.

The Beast laughed and for the first time since she had known him, there was no malice in it.

From that point on, Brienne did join him for the required, regular meals. The Beast told her she did not have to anymore, that she could do what she pleased, that she was a guest and not a prisoner, but still she made herself, feeling obligated to check in on him. The Beast japed and teased her and made her flush until she almost regretted joining him at all, but he’d stop once he realized she was uncomfortable and would instead stare at her, as if he was trying to understand who Brienne was.

Which was something she didn’t understand at all. Brienne thought she was fairly easy to understand, especially compared to a man who was, in actuality, a Beast. However, he acted sometimes as if she was more complicated than one of her father’s inventions - and all of those were very, _very_ complex and full of trinkets she couldn’t name. 

He still refused to allow her to use his proper name, as she was sure he’d had one, insisting that she call him Beast. Although, he japed, watching her carefully as he did so, if he was to be called Beast surely she wouldn’t mind being called wench?

Her scowl answered his query quite nicely.

It wasn’t long before the Beast would knock on her door, inquiring after her. Olenna the wardrobe always looked as if she was smirking quietly, but the wardrobe never said a thing as the Beast stood at her doorway, japing and looking almost more like an excited stray dog than a vicious creature from tales.

Yet somehow Brienne felt as if she was in a tale or a song, wearing clothes that properly fit her thanks to Lady Catelyn and her daughters, making friends with the talking objects who chattered at her whenever she walked the castle.  Addam, a suit of armor, kindly gave her directions to the library, while the oft-spoken-of Varys, a walking and talking carriage clock with little birds etched in his frame, often seemed to know things about her, things that she was sure that no one could have known unless they followed her. But Brienne saw no one on her paths nor did she feel anyone’s presence. 

Her suspicions felt merited when the Beast found her in his library, reading over a book about one of the great Knights of old. She had told no one of her journey there and had seen not one talking object yet the Beast found her.

“He was apparently an arse,” the Beast informed her, reading over her shoulder, “That’s what the books neglect to tell you.”

Brienne slammed the book so hard she felt the sound reverberate around the room. The Beast smiled at her. 

When he smiled at her it sometimes felt like the sort of smile a man did for a woman but that was ridiculous for so many reasons that Brienne had to put it out of her head. “Why do you have to say such things?” she demanded defensively, avoiding his gaze.

“Because it’s the truth,” he said. “Although I forgot that many dislike the truth. The real truth I mean.”

She got up from her chair and put the book back. He was terrible. “What does _that_ mean? How can there be more than one truth?” she asked.

The Beast’s breath was soft when he approached her, he almost looked like he wanted to reach out to her but didn’t. “You’ll find out,” he said after a few moments of staring. Brienne wanted to protest but then he spoke again, “Come. I have a surprise for you.”

Without waiting for her assent he wandered out of the room, as if expecting her to follow him.

Against her will, she did, if only because she was stupidly curious as to what he could be intending to show her. 

She still had not viewed many parts of the castle and so when she turned to follow him it was as if they were in an entirely new place. It somehow seemed brighter here than in any other part, with large windows that showed the snow falling down across the castle’s courtyard.

Brienne smiled at it. The snow did not seem as terrible when she was able to sleep in a warm castle, bundled up by blankets and a warm fire. The Beast noticed her looking and snorted through his snout.

“We’re not going there,” he stated. 

She looked at him and for a moment it was as if he fell apart at her gaze. His muscles, tense, were now loose, and his eyes, as sharp as emeralds, looked more like the leaves of a tree - soft and billowy, “I didn’t expect that we were.”

He snorted again, but this time there was a smile. 

Their destination was a hefty wooden door, outlined in lion sigils. When Brienne looked up, she saw the balcony she took to get to the West Wing. Marveling at this, she turned back towards the Beast.

Brienne could see his muscles tensing up again underneath the white shirt and cape he wore. “Close your eyes,” he barked.

Brienne didn’t like that. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? Because it’s a surprise, wench,” he slipped.

She glared, “I thought you were going to stop calling me that.” But she knew he would never. He enjoyed it too much.

His teeth were showing now as he smirked at her, somehow proud that he could still get under her skin after the weeks they had spent together. “Fine, _Brienne_ ,” he said, “it’s a surprise. So close your eyes.”

Brienne rolled her eyes but then closed them dutifully.

“No peeking,” he warned. The serious tone he was trying on was then ruined by his fit of laughter. She heard the creak of the door hinges as it was pushed open, and then felt his paw against her back, although his touch was so light Brienne could barely tell it was there, guiding her in. 

He let her go quickly and she could hear him moving while he also warned her again not to peak. So Brienne stood there, feeling awkward and embarrassed as she heard the patter of his nails against the floor. And then she winced as light suddenly struck her closed eyelids. 

“Can I open them now?” she asked with a grimace. Brienne was a tad annoyed that the Beast was going through these theatrics, but knew it was part of his personality.

She heard his nails click clack against the floor and suddenly he was on her right, “Now.”

Brienne opened them and gasped. When he chuckled, she felt as if she should blush at her reaction, but was too agog at the scene before her.

The armory. He had taken her to the armory. 

It was lit up with several large windows that overlooked the bridge that connected the castle to the forest and if Brienne peered far enough, she imagined that she could see the smoke coming from the fireplace from her cottage in Tarth.

But beside the windows there were displays of the most beautiful armor Brienne had ever seen, in books or in her imagination. Some were ostentatious - jeweled helms that held encrusted rubies in the shape of lions - while others were built for wear and war with delicate mail and strong plates. 

There were also beautiful weapons that looked much deadlier and sharper than her father’s sword that lay within Brienne’s room. Walking over to one of the displays, she picked up the longsword out of curiosity, aware that the Beast was watching her, and was astounded at the balance and the weight of it.

“Be careful,” the Beast said, although he didn't sound worried, “That one is made of Valyrian steel.”

Brienne glanced at the steel and almost felt as if she should kneel down and worship it - the way the Northerners worshipped trees. Black and red ripples danced through the steel and the scabbard glittered gold - decorated with a row of lion's heads and rubies that looked as if they were born out of a holy fire. More rubies glittered as Brienne examined it - the pommel was a lion’s head, just like the Beast’s head, with ruby eyes that sparkled at her, almost as if they were winking. It was beautiful, “What is its name?” 

“The name has been lost. I believe it needs a new one.”

The way he said it made her look away from the sword and back to him, “Are you asking me to name it?”

His smile was full of teeth, “Do you see anyone else?” 

Brienne could not imagine a name for it. “I shall think on it,” she told the Beast, who looked amused. 

“You mean you don’t have a name from all those books you read?” he asked.

She scowled, while simultaneously wishing that she wasn’t so ugly when she did so. “It deserves a true name. A good one.”

“And I believe you shall give it one. And it is yours now, I feel as though I should clarify that before you put it back. You are to keep it,” he said with a wave of his paw as if it was nothing.

His japes were terrible but the Beast looked so serious that Brienne was alarmed. “It’s Valyrian steel, I cannot take it,” she protested.

“Stop gaping and staring at me as if I’m mad. It’s yours. I’ll have a servant set it up in your room.”

Tears pricked her eyes but she swallowed them, “Thank you.”

His eyes watched her carefully almost as if she was an animal he needed to corral with quiet, gentle movements. “It is no trouble,” he finally said. “I cannot use it for obvious reasons, so I’m glad someone will enjoy it.”

“Have you ever practiced swordplay?” Brienne asked before she lost her courage to do so. He looked upon the swords as if had once known them well. 

The Beast shook his mane, “That’s a question I am unable to answer.”

The sword felt heavy in Brienne’s hands. “Unable or unwilling?” Brienne ventured, somehow know that the answer was important. 

His eyes were sharper than the sword she held in her hands, “Both.”

* * *

The sword without a name hung across from her bed, right above her father’s. 

“That was nice of him,” commented Olenna the dresser the next morning, as Brienne readied herself for an outdoor excursion. The snow had stopped and she was aching to go out in the courtyard for fresh air. The castle was very nice and large, but staying inside all of the time was making her feel rotten. 

“What?” Brienne asked distractedly. All she could find were dresses, as it seemed that Lady Catelyn had only made a few pairs of pants for her. Brienne had been avoiding the dresses. While the clothes the little family had made were all very nice and fit wonderfully, Brienne did not expect the dresses to do anything but make her feel like a large cow. 

“You should try on the blue dress at some point,” Olenna said, moving the other dresses aside to show off a blue ballgown. 

Brienne stared at it, almost revolted. “When am I going to have the chance to wear a dress like that? And it wouldn’t look good on me anyway.”

“Nonsense,” Olenna remarked. “You never know what life has planned for you.” 

“I know enough,” Brienne declared, thinking of the rose Ronnet threw at her feet. “And my life does not include fancy dresses.”

“As you say,” Olenna said, sounding amused. “While you’re in there though, I suspect that you may find something more to your liking for today’s outing.”

Brienne digged through the wardrobe, pushing aside dresses and shirts and pants, and soon discovered what Olenna meant.

A heavy sigh escaped her causing Olenna to laugh.

* * *

With trepidation, Brienne took her first step outside, frowning as the snow crunched underneath her heavy feet. The cloak she wore protected her from the worst of the bracing wind but still she shuddered. 

“You look cold,” the Beast remarked beside her. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to reach out and guide her, but he stopped, looking almost angry with himself. 

_But that was all nonsense,_ Brienne told herself, wrapping her arms around herself. The Beast wouldn’t do that. She was no lady. 

And he didn’t look angry now, his eyes were dancing at her plight. “Although your dress looks warm, yet I’m surprised you’re wearing it at all.”

“It was the warmest thing Olenna had,” she said wearily, almost tripping over her fur-lined skirt. It was strange wearing fur while the Beast… well…

He smirked at her, all teeth. “And your cloak?” he asked, reaching out with his paw to touch it before stopping suddenly.

Now _that look_ she had not made up in her head. “Olenna picked it out for me. Said it would go well with the dress.”

The Beast nodded, his green eyes looking almost serious. “And your eyes.”

“My eyes?” Brienne touched her own face, “What?”

“They’re both blue,” he said. “Very pretty too.”

Without meaning to, Brienne blushed and hid her face by pulling the hood of the cloak over her head. The Beast laughed, “I’m sorry to make the maiden blush.”

“Stop it,” she ordered, but his laughter didn’t abate. 

Until the snowball hit his face.

“What are you doing?” he asked, amusement laced in his voice, “Brienne, why did you-“

She held another snowball in her hand, “Stop laughing!” 

He grinned and suddenly Brienne felt as if she should run. Almost laughing, she sprinted away, hiding behind one of the trees that was in the courtyard, and creating her own stockpile of snowballs. 

“Oh, wench!” the Beast called out.

Brienne, out of habit, looked around the tree in time to see the Beast throw a huge snowball at her. She hid behind the tree again and it exploded in a sprinkle of ice and cold around her as it hit the tree trunk. 

Quickly, she threw three of her snowballs and, with some satisfaction, watched as two of them hit the Beast right in his snout.

“I should never cross you,” the Beast called out, as he started piling up snow. He was making a fort, Brienne realized. 

She mimicked him and started building her own fort around the tree. However, she became so involved in the process that it was only when she heard the crunch of the snow that she saw that he had become much closer… and was carrying a large snowball in his paw.

She grabbed one of her snowballs and arced her arm, aiming for the Beast’s mouth.

“Shall we call a truce?” the Beast asked, although he looked ready to drop the snowball on her if she disagreed. 

Something wild took ahold of Brienne then. “Never,” she replied.

The Beast looked surprised as Brienne jumped up and pulled his cape over his mane and sprinted before he could disentangle himself. She heard the snowball drop out of his paws and she laughed.

Until she came upon an unfamiliar part of the courtyard.

Brienne had never seen such a place before. A palace of glass, she marveled, pressing her gloved hand against a pane.

“It’s the glass garden.”

Brienne looked back to find the Beast looking at it strangely. 

He smiled when he noticed Brienne watching him, “I haven’t been here for years.”

Brienne removed her glove and pressed her hand on it again,“How is it so warm?” 

The Beast shrugged, “I wouldn’t know… Tyrion would though. Probably. He seems to know everything.”

“Where’s the entrance?” Brienne asked, trying to peer inside. She couldn’t see anything through the distortion of the glass. 

“Around here somewhere…” the Beast hesitated, “Would you like me to show you?”

When she threw him an incredulous look he laughed, although it sounded forced to Brienne’s ears, “Better that than letting you wander around. Remember what happened last time?”

“You threw a fit,” Brienne stated, frowning up at him and folding her arms.

He opened his mouth to argue but presumably thought better of it. “I did, indeed,” he said, although it was hard to tell if he was ashamed of it. “So come my dear wench, I know, I know,” he laughed when Brienne frowned, touching her arm so lightly it was as if he had not touched her at all. “Your name is Brienne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be a while before the next chapter is posted! And yes, I threw the glass gardens in there. Let's call it a stroke of genius (or maybe just a stroke). Thanks to everyone for reading and I hope you're enjoying the story!


	4. Both A Little Scared, Neither One Prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dance.

She expected the gardens to feel cold. After all, there was snow up to her mid-calf just a few feet away but… it wasn’t. 

The glass garden was warm. 

“Why do you look so surprised, wench?” The Beast asked, pushing her in. Brienne had stood at the door, almost in shock at the beauty that lay before her. She felt unworthy, as she always did in front of beautiful people in things.

But still, it wouldn’t do to let even the Beast know that. “Brienne,” she corrected. 

“I know,” he groused, his fangs bared. “I know. But still you felt the heat when you placed your hand on the glass, why do you look so shocked now?”

“It’s not completely that,” she admitted, still staring out. “It’s just beautiful.”

Just as she felt inferior when standing next to a beautiful lady or a handsome man, Brienne felt inferior next to this garden. It was wild, to be sure, but in a perfect way. Vines and branches entwined with each other, flowers blooming all along the edges, colors and shapes she had never seen before, reaching beyond the glass as if they were hoping to touch the sun. 

“Is that a blue rose?” Brienne asked when she wandered a little further. She almost tripped over a vine that lay upon the stone path and the Beast laughed. She glared back at him, but was still distracted by the rose.

She still hated roses but this one almost seemed pretty to her. 

The Beast’s shadow hung over her and for a moment she was reminded of the West Wing. She winced, but all he did was pluck the flower from its place and hand it to her. 

“Matches your eyes.” 

“You shouldn’t have plucked it,” Brienne reprimanded even as she took it from his paw. He huffed, the air blowing out of his nostrils with tremendous force.  

“I try to do something nice,” he muttered. 

Brienne rolled her eyes and walked away from him. The garden was more interesting than the whining of a Beast. 

He followed her, “This garden needs a gardener, are you up for the job?”

“I thought I was a guest,” Brienne retorted. “And I would just end up killing everything in here. Leave it be, it’s beautiful as it is.”

He grabbed her shoulder, but somehow avoided piercing her with his claws. “You like things wild and untamed then?” he said, his voice almost sending as if it was lined with velvet or other soft materials that Olenna the dresser tried to force Brienne to wear. 

“You know who is wild and untamed?”

“Me,” Brienne said, trying not to blush at his true insinuation. He was much too eager to make her blush. 

The Beast let go of her. “What?”

“Well, that’s what they always said, that I was ugly and wild and not useful. That I needed a man to hold me down but who would want to do that job.” Brienne shrugged, turning away to look at her blue rose. Although that only served to remind her of Ronnet Connington so she glowered at it. 

“You do look quite fierce, you only need a suit of armor - wait, you do have that already.”

She rolled her eyes and the Beast continued his japes. “And a sword, oh wait, I gave you one. What else would a wild woman need?”

“A horse,” Brienne suggested casually, thinking of her bay mare. 

“And you have one of those as well, don’t worry she’s been taken care of.”

The way he said that made her pause. “You didn’t eat her did you?” she asked accusingly, placing her hands on her non-existent hips. “She helped me save you!”

His laugh was more like a roar, blowing her hair away from her face and she scowled. “It’s a reasonable question,” Brienne muttered.

The Beast laughed again and Brienne wondered if she would ever again live in a world where laughter wasn’t a roar. 

She hoped she wouldn’t - roaring laughter was better than cruel snickering. 

Especially when the laughter came from the Beast.

* * *

 The next night at dinner, Brienne was astonished to see him nearly properly dressed. 

“You’re wearing a shirt!” she said, astounded by the change. He would sometimes attempt this but she could tell it was always troublesome for him, with rips and tears in the sleeves until it looked more like a giant hole than a shirt. But now she only noticed one small hole near the bottom of the sleeve.

He smiled, almost sheepishly, if beasts could sheepishly smile, “I felt as if I should attempt looking a bit more…”

He trailed off as suddenly unsure and she let it be, unsure if she wanted to know what he meant. “Well, that’s fine,” she said decisively, sitting down. “Just as long as you don’t try to make me wear a dress.” 

The Beast laughed, “I can’t promise you that.”

Brienne stopped herself from drinking the wine and stared at the Beast, barely noticing his fur and instead looking into his very green eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that… the servants, well they’re trying to do something nice.”

She could feel a bubble of terror expanding in her stomach. “What do you mean?” she repeated, feeling stupid and foolish. She knew what he meant but she hoped she was wrong. 

“They are arranging something special for you. And I suppose for me, but I think they think they’re doing it for you.” He looked like he was about to roar with laughter like he had in the glass gardens and Brienne didn’t like it nearly so much now.

“I don’t want to wear a ballgown,” she said, looking about the dark room as if waiting for one to the servants to ambush her with a dress. “I don’t look good in gowns.”

“I don’t think looks will be much of a problem with me around,” he said dryly.

“I am not feminine enough for such things,” she protested. “It won’t work.”

“You must not have enough faith in our little sewing team then. I can assure you, if they can make something fit me… then you won’t be a problem.”

“Well, you aren’t wearing a dress!”

“And how do you know that? I can assure you I look lovely in my red ballgown with glittering emeralds and rubies and a tiara.” The Beast grinned at her as if trying to make her smile, but she couldn’t help it. She scowled.

“Stop being such a wench and relax. It’s for one night. And,” his voice softened to the point that Brian could barely hear him, “it’s just me.” 

“And them,” Brienne said, unwilling to let him win. “The servants will see me too.”

“As if they’re in a place to talk about looks. Every one would rather be in your shoes - it’s better than being a pair of shoes.”

Brienne nearly kicked her shoes off. “Some of the shoes are servants?” she asked, horrified. 

He barked a laugh, “Oh Gods, no, Brienne.”

He stopped laughing when she threw a shoe at his head.

* * *

Brienne stared at the wardrobe, feeling wary. She had the same sort of feeling before she rode a horse for the first time.

She hoped it wouldn’t end the same. The first horse she rode threw her off.

“You’ll look pretty, I promise,” Sansa said. Brienne still couldn’t bear looking at her, seeing a child trapped in an object was too terrible, but she tried to smile although she knew it came out as a grimace. 

Arya, the floating needle, laughed making their mother snap at her. Brienne couldn’t remember if her mother ever snapped at her. Possibly she did, but it was so long ago that Brienne could barely remember anything about her. 

“Brienne, dear. It’s time.” Catelyn said, “It’s just a dress and a dinner, my dear.”

In an unused part of the castle, where Brienne had never been. On a night that was clear and beautiful - she could see the stars shining through the closed curtains they were so bright.  

It felt almost magical and Brienne had enough of magic.

“Do I have to?” she almost asked them, terrified of something that she couldn’t name. 

But instead she inhaled and exhaled and took a step forward and Olenna’s voice greeted her as soon as she did.

“It’s time for the blue ballgown then?” she asked, the doors to the dresser creaking open as if she was yawning. “Very well, put it on. You’ll look beautiful in it.”

Brienne frowned, but did as she was bid, tired of arguing and feeling as though all the servants had been looking forward to this. If she was at home, she would have expected a trap, that they were hoping that she’d look ridiculous and laugh at her - that they’d call her “Brienne the Beauty” and mock her to her face.

But everyone had been kind to her here… even the Beast.

Especially the Beast, she thought, looking over at the sword he gave her, where it hung on the wall.

The corset was the hardest part of the dress to get on, although somehow it managed to tie itself and knew exactly when Brienne was unable to breathe for it stopped right before. When Brienne looked in her mirror she was stunned to see an actual waist and although her breasts were still tiny, they looked larger than she had ever imagined.  

She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. It felt so untrue to who she was - it felt false.

“I don’t want to wear a corset,” she said definitely. 

The ladies, as they were ladies to her now, sighed heavily. “Fine,” they acquiesced. “We’ll make do somehow.”

And they did.

Brienne was stunned when she looked in the mirror. 

It wasn’t that she was beautiful, only an enchantment could change her that drastically, or even that she pretty. But she was… she was herself. The way she had always wanted to be seen. 

“A transformation,” she muttered, pressing a gloved hand on her cheek, where a dash of rouge lightened up her face. “I look rather nice, don’t I?”

“You do, my dear.”

“Almost pretty, in fact,” Olenna said, her voice tinkling in the air. 

Brienne liked that.

_ Almost pretty. _

She almost floated down the stairs, feeling quite happy and wonderful. Looking in the mirror, for the first time in a long time, had not been a chore. She hadn’t wished that she looked like someone else.  

She was almost pretty. 

And the Beast was almost handsome in the way dogs can be - his hair washed and cut and groomed. He wore blue too, instead of his traditional red, and she wondered if he knew that she’d be wearing a blue ballgown and if he did it to match.

Either way, the color matched splendidly against his golden fur, and when they reached each other at the bottom of the stairs, he held out his arm to her, as if he was a gentleman and she was a lady.

And with only a moment to think, Brienne placed her arm on his. 

She didn’t even blush, she couldn’t blush, she was too focused on not tripping over the stupid, beautiful ballgown they made her wear. 

“Blue suits you,” he said after a moment.

“Shut up.”

He laughed and she felt more settled then, and less silly. Felt almost like herself than the almost pretty girl they made her out to be. 

He didn’t call her beautiful or pretty as they sat at the table together, for which Brienne was grateful. He did remark upon her eyes often enough that Brienne was having a hard time meeting his. 

He loved her eyes. 

If eyes were the window to the soul, did that mean he love her too?

What a ridiculous question, she thought, frowning and trying not to tear apart her steak with a fork. A better question would be where they got this steak from. Or any food really. The garden had only flowers not fruits or vegetables. 

“Where does this food come from?” she asked finally.

The Beast looked amused. “From a cow, I suppose.” 

“What cow?” 

“A magic cow, like the sort in the stories. I’m assuming you’ve heard stories.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and cut into her steak harder. Somewhere music drifted into the room.

“Ah I see they’ve started early,” he said, patting down the fur that was poking out of his clothes. Almost as if he was embarrassed.  

“Started what?” Brienne said, feeling guarded.  

The Beast got up from his chair and smiled. She remembered when she thought his smiles were scowls… but how could she ever think so? His eyes glittered like emeralds. 

“Dance with me?” he asked, holding out his paw. 

Brienne couldn’t speak.

So he repeated himself, “Dance with me, Brienne.”

He didn’t call her wench. Her stomach clenched and she suddenly wasn’t very hungry. She pushed the meal aside. “What?” 

He came closer now and his smile didn’t fade away. With casual deliberation, he reached for her hand, and, for some reason, she let him take it into his paw. 

She couldn’t speak, too fearful of what she’d say, as he guided her into a room she had never been into before. A beautiful, golden ballroom that matched the color of the Beast’s fur, that shined and shimmered before her eyes. 

Brienne could see a suit of armor playing on the violin and looked up at the Beast. It was still so strange to have to look up to see someone’s eyes, yet she had to with him.

He wasn’t smiling now. “Dance with me?” he whispered and Brienne wanted something she couldn’t name.

She didn’t speak, but placed one of his paws on her waist, her thick ugly waist, and he smiled then, looking almost amused. 

“Shut up,” she said, embarrassed. His laughter was softer than it had ever been and she felt almost happy in his arms.

They twirled around the room and it almost felt as if they were battling for dominance.

“Wench, let me lead. Have you even danced before?” the Beast grumbled at her.

“A little,” she said, thinking of terrible dances in the local public house. “But I can’t help it, lead better!”

He grabbed her waist even tighter to the point where she gasped. Something flickered in his eyes and he looked as if he wanted to say something, but did not. 

His claws were at her back and she felt odd knowing how inhuman he was, but at the same time, realizing that he was in fact, very much, human and a man. He had to be or else…

She didn’t want to think about the other option. 

“Let’s sit,” he said, at last, after what felt like an hour dancing in his arms, to the point where Brienne almost felt sticky with sweat. Almost as if they had been sparring rather than dancing. 

There was a beautiful balcony outside the ballroom, overlooking the world. Brienne almost thought she could see the ocean far off in the distance, but it was so dark that it could have just been farmland covered in snow. It wasn’t as cold as it once was, the snow was melting off the branches like flowing even though it was late, possibly even early the next day, for they had danced so long that Brienne could not guess, the moon was hanging too high in the sky. The Beast sat on the edge of the balcony, looking almost fragile in the moonlight and Brienne knew for sure, then, that he had been human once - that he was human. That he was a man looking at a girl. 

She swallowed and looked away from him, unable to bear the weight of what he was giving her.

“Are you…” he hesitated. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” Brienne confessed. An image of her father swarmed before her, “I miss my Father.”

The Beast was silent.  

“I am happy here, which is a shock,” Brienne said, feeling as though she needed to explain, although he winced when said shock. Embarrassed, she kept talking. “I just - I’m all my Father has. And he’s all I have.”

“That’s not true,” the Beast said but didn’t explain further. She wanted to know what he meant but decided it was better not to ask.  

She looked back at the Beast, feeling as though he needed to see her face to understand. “I just wish I could see him, that’s all.” 

The Beast smiled, “I can manage that.” 

Within minutes, he brought her back up to his rooms in the West Wing. He lit candles while Brienne looked about the room, which seemed no different than the first time. Although, Brienne felt uneasier here now than she had before. She could see the other ripped paintings and portraits much easier now in the candlelight and their missing pieces frightened her in a way that no beast could. One without a face stared at her, the hole occurring right in between the eyes and the neck. It was hard to see most of its features, but its eyes glittered like jewels in the darkness, and Brienne glared at it. 

“Here,” the Beast said, unaware of her expression. He handed her the hand mirror she had not touched on her last journey into the room.  

“I know what I look like,” she growled, feeling as if she was the one who was a beast. 

For he was a handsome beast, truly, if beasts could be handsome. 

He laughed at her, “Look into it and say what you’d like to see.”

Brienne glared at him for laughing at her, but did as she was told. “I’d like to see my father… please.”

With a flash of emerald light that nearly blinded her, the scene in the mirror changed from her face marred with rouge to her father's pale one. He was lost in the snow. While she had been comfortable outdoors just a few minutes ago, her father was decidedly not comfortable at this moment. He was coughing and looked weaker than Brienne had ever seen him look before, even when he was a prisoner of the Beast's. 

“Where is he?” she yelled, panicking. “Where is my Father?!”

“What’s wrong, Brienne?” the Beast asked, his voice lowering into a growl. He took the mirror aside and saw. 

“He’s on a path not far from here,” he deduced. “I recognize the path. You…” the Beast hesitated. “You must go to him.” 

“What?” Brienne had desperately wanted to hear that as soon as she saw her father, but she never expected the Beast to allow it.

His smile grew sad, “You’re no longer my prisoner.”

Brienne didn’t know what to say. 

“Go save your father, wench. Stop looking at me as if I’ve grown a second head.” 

“But, our deal…”

“Null and void,” the Beast said cheerfully, turning away. 

“But…” Brienne wasn’t sure why she was objecting. She could go back home, she could save her father.

“Go, Brienne, before I change my mind. Beasts are weak creatures, I can’t promise I won’t change my mind in the next minute. Speaking of which…” he turned back to her and handed her the mirror. “Take this.”

She was baffled. “Why?” 

“I bet your mirrors are in worse shape than my own,” he japed.  

Brienne waited and he sighed. “In case, you need help finding your way back home... or in case you ever miss your prison. Or your jailer.” He looked so uncomfortable that Brienne almost pitied him. She placed a hand on his cheek, or what she thought was his cheek, but quickly retracted it, feeling foolish.

Instead, she stiffly nodded at him.  "Goodbye, Beast." 

He didn't smile at her, instead he placed his paw on her bare shoulder. "Goodbye, Brienne."

Unable to bear any of it any longer, she left with the mirror in hand.

Only looking back once.

Just once.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer than expected to come out. I struggled mightily with it. Almost as much as Brienne is struggling with her feelings! Not quite that bad though. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and thanks to everyone for all the kudos and comments!


	5. We Don't Like What We Don't Understand In Fact It Scares Us...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne saves her father and dooms the Beast.

Brienne easily found her father with the help of the mirror. It hummed in her hands anytime she was on the right path, as if pleased she was going the right way. Brienne would have typically disregarded this, but magic had become too much a part of her life to disregard a humming mirror.

The snow was melting underneath her feet as Brienne guided her mare (with her father on top) back to Tarth. So much had happened since she left, she realized, taking in the scene as they walked past the town. It was bustling as usual, with the men staring at the prettier women as they walked down the street, gathering their wares and buying from the market. It was hard to see who was who from far away, but Brienne knew the scene well enough.

But she had not time to dawdle, her father was still ill. Knocking on the maester’s door, a strange fellow named Qyburn who was rumored to have been kicked out of the Citadel, Brienne helped her father in the Maester’s home. It was a dark, strange place, but she had once felt the same about the Beast’s castle.

And now that place felt more at home to her than her actual home.

Ignoring the human body parts hanging in glass jars from the ceiling, Brienne sat down on a small wooden chair, watching while Qyburn examined her father. After what felt like hours, while peering into his eyes with a strange light, Qyburn pronounced Selwyn well enough to go home.

“Call for me if he gets worse.”

“But you just said he was fine.”

“Fine enough to go home. There are many mysteries about the human body and most have not been solved.”

Brienne felt herself getting angry. “And?”

“And that means for now, your father will live. The weather is warming, it may be a false spring, but that should be enough to allow your father rest. Just make sure he is warmed by a fire and given hot tea. He should not be cold.”

With that in mind, Brienne left the doctor, grasping her father’s hand and helping him back onto the mare. He still seemed disoriented and she wasn’t even sure if he recognized her.

If only there was another maester in Tarth that could take a look at her father.  
But there wasn’t. So Brienne took him home, piled him under covers, and did as the doctor ordered, feeding him broths and tea, and stoking a fire.

After an afternoon of this, Brienne felt herself sweating. It was much too hot for anyone who wasn’t suffering from a chill so she unpacked the clothes the servants pushed onto her and changed into a light dress.

Who would have thought she’d be wearing dresses?

“Brienne!” a muffled voice called, from underneath the pile of clothes.

Oh no.

Brienne pulled off a shirt and saw a needle.

Arya.

“Hi!” Arya chirped. “Isn’t this cool? I got out of there!”

“Arya, what are you doing? I can’t take you back right now, my Father is ill.”

“Can I see your father?” Arya asked, “If he let you sword fight he must be amazing.”

“He’s not well, Arya.”

“So? He’s not going to notice me, I’m too small.”

Brienne didn’t know how to reply to that. So she held Arya carefully in her hand and took her down the steps where her father’s bedroom was.

“Father, are you all right?” Brienne asked when she knocked on the door.

A snore answered her.

Brienne placed Arya down on the bedside table. “Why did you come here?”

“I didn’t want you to go. And I knew you’d have to bring me back home if I came along.”

“I could just keep you here,” Brienne said.

Arya laughed. “That’s not true.”

It wasn’t. Brienne couldn’t kidnap a child, even if she hadn’t known she was kidnapping her.

“I’ll return you after my father is well. Is there any way I can write a letter to your mother or something? Although, I suppose if I could do that, I’d be able to mail you as well.”

Arya squirmed, “No you can’t. Nothing can reach us, and even if it could, oh, you have to go back!”

“I was going to come back anyways,” Brienne said. “I still made a promise.”

“But he released you from it, I thought.”

“A vow is a vow.”

“You’re not going back.”

Brienne looked at her father, who was the one who had spoken. His own blue eyes, so much like her own, sparkled as he tried to sit up, “Your fever is breaking, Father, lay down. You need rest.”

“It’s too damned hot in here.”

“We’re sweating it out per Qyburn’s instructions.”

“Qyburn,” Selwyn spat. “He’s a jape.”

Brienne agreed but couldn’t let her father know that. “It doesn’t matter, lay down. It’s working so far, you look better than you have in hours.”

“I was coming to save you,” her father muttered before he spotted Arya. “Do I know you?”

“Yes!” Arya said, “I didn’t think you saw me before, but I saw you, you were amazing.”

“Amazing?” Brienne asked.

“He fought the Beast!”

Brienne dropped the cup of tea she had been holding, “Oh Father, why?”

“He attacked me!”

“Did not,” Arya said. “You were afraid and so you hit him with the butt of your sword.”

“Father!”

“I thought he was a wild animal who had gotten tangled up in a man’s clothes, how was I supposed to know he was — that thing.”

“And then instead of killing you, he threw you in a dungeon,” Brienne said. “He had every right to kill you, really. You intruded in his domain and then attacked him!”

“He was going to let me die in that tower!” Selwyn reminded her.

“Perhaps,” Brienne said, although she wasn’t sure now. Not when the Beast had been so kind and generous to her.

She had believed this entire time that the Beast had been extremely cruel to her Father, but that wasn’t the case. Her father had made a mistake and paid for it dearly, but real human men would have treated him worse than the Beast had. If Ronnet had been the one transformed into a beast, or maybe even Hyle or the awful Kettleblacks or Qyburn or if any of the other terrible men who resided in this village ere cursed to an existence as a beast, they would have ripped her father to shreds if he intruded in their domain.

_For sport._

“He was just trying to scare you,” Arya said confidently. “He didn’t want you to actually die. He acts scarier than he actually is — everyone assumes the worst of him so he doesn’t have to ever try very hard. They did that even… well, even before.”

Brienne’s heart thumped, and she avoided looking at her father and the little needle in his hands. “I need to take a walk… and think.”

“Brienne!” her father called out after her, but Brienne couldn’t hear, she didn’t want to.

* * *

Her walk led her to the woods.

The dark, frightening woods.

Or so Brienne had once thought, once upon a time.

Now, she couldn’t help but feel calmed by the woods. She spotted a flower blooming on one of the trees.

It may have been a false spring but it was still nice to see flowers beginning to bloom. The whole scene almost reminded Brienne of the glass gardens with its flowers and plants, tangling with each other.

The Beast’s green eyes flashed in her head and she backed away from the woods, knowing that she had to go back to take care of her father. The Beast… well, he may not have wanted her father to die, but her father might just do it anyhow.

“Brienne?”

Her father stood there.

“Father! What are you doing?” She hurried to him and put her shawl around his neck. “You have to get back inside, what were you thinking?”

He ignored her questions and asked her one of his. “Why do you look sad to be back? Aren’t you happy? How did you even escape from that horrible monster?”

“He’s not a horrible monster,” Brienne said sternly, guiding her father back to their cottage. “And he let me go.”

“He did what?”

“He let me go,” Brienne said, trying not to blush from her father’s stare.

“But why?”

“Because he isn’t as horrible as you think. He’s honorable and _good_ and —“ She fell silent at the look on her father’s face.

“Brienne,” her father said, his voice a mixture of wonder and sadness. “You love him.”

“I do not,” she said. “But he is all those things, Father. He’s not a bad person.”

“Brienne, he’s not a person at all.”

Brienne ignored that and pushed the door open, “Let’s get you inside, Father.”

“Why do you love him? What did he do?”

“I don’t love him, he was just good to me. Better than anyone else,” she said, while tucking her Father into his bed as if he was the child and she was the parent. “Except you, of course.”

“Brienne,” her father said. Arya was still laying on the end table, looking puzzled.

“I don’t love him,” she corrected before her father could speak. “I love you, Father, and I’m going to make sure you are well.”

Her father watched her with tired eyes, “You said, before, that you were going to go back. I heard you.”

“I made a promise.”

“And he released you from it. I can’t lose you to him again.”

“Perhaps you’ll be able to come back with us. He won’t deny me that, I think.”

“He wouldn’t!” Arya chirped. “The master likes Brienne very much. And he wouldn’t break guest right, anyways.”

Brienne thought of the moment where the Beast almost did break guest right. “Well, yes, he wouldn’t.”

Her father looked so sad. “Oh Brienne, you always have been on the hardest path.”

“What do you mean?” she asked… but her father fell asleep before she even finished speaking.

* * *

Nearly a week had gone by before her Father was even half of his usual self, looking flushed and happy.

He finally was able to fill her in on the happenings of Tarth since she had been gone. “There have only been two marriages, and one was definitely caused by a babe. The poor girl is larger than our cottage.”

“Father,” Brienne reprimanded.

“Oh, and I tried gathering help for you, but no one would listen. I suspect they thought I was mad,” her father grinned. If Brienne hadn’t known him so well, she would have been taken in by it. But it was too wide for it to be a genuine grin.

“What do you mean?”

“I told them all about the Beast and none of them believed me. I thought Ronnet would be interested especially, being a hunter and all, and I even offered them a reward, but no one cared or believed.”

“They probably were glad I was gone,” Brienne remarked, trying not to feel too stung by the thought.

“I don’t think they noticed before I mentioned it,” her father said apologetically. “But after that, I gathered my things and headed back towards the castle, but a terrible storm settled in and I got lost for at least a day.”

“Thank you, Father,” Brienne said, “You didn’t have to try and save me and yet you did.”

“Of course I did! You’re my daughter. And you came to save me!”

Brienne tried to hide her smile, “I did.”

“Anyways, I think that everyone assumed you were gone forever, gallivanting or something.”

More likely they thought I was dead, Brienne thought.

Her father continued, “So before I left, Ronnet tried to press me into selling this cottage to him, since I didn’t need such a large establishment now that I lived alone. And why did I need to live so close to the woods, he asked me. He tried to insinuate that because I did not hunt regularly, that I did not deserve to live so close.”

“He’s only doing this because he’s probably killed all the game by his pub and cottage,” Brienne said.

“I did say that to him, which I can assure you, he did not like very much. I’m half expecting him to try to force me to sell to him, but now that you’re here I’m safe from his mechanisms.”

“The only way he’d get the house now is if he married or killed me and neither of those are likely to happen,” Brienne stated, polishing her sword.

“Too true,” her father said eyeing her. “The Beast, did he give you that?”

Brienne looked down, “Yes.”

She could feel her father’s eyes on her sword, “That sword is worth more than a hundred of these cottages. Possibly even more than a thousand of our cottages. And he just… gave it to you?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

“Just say what you will,” Brienne snapped. “I’ve already heard your suspicions.”

“But I wasn’t as lucid then as I am now.”

“So?”

“It’s even clearer to me what is happening, but I see that you don’t see the path as well, so I’ll leave you be.”

This infuriated Brienne more. “Are you playing matchmaker?”

“Gods no, I don’t want you anywhere near that monster, but whenever did a father get what he wanted?”

“He’s not a monster,” Brienne said, looking up and staring into her father’s eyes.

He did not falter. “So you say.”

It was silent until a small cough. “Can we go back now?” Arya asked.

Brienne looked at her father, who, while better, still looked small and frail to Brienne when he had once been large and mighty. “Not yet. But soon.”

* * *

  _The day after tomorrow_ , Brienne decided nearly two days after Arya had last asked to go back to the castle. _The day after tomorrow, I’ll take Arya back. And stay only for the night._

She was folding up sheets outdoors, trying to ignore the bracing cool air when Hyle Hunt, a local guardsmen came up to her from his path to and from the village. He walked it nearly every day, Brienne remembered, and would often come up to ask for water.

“Brienne,” he said, acknowledging her with a nod. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I’d expect you would be.”

“You know your father has gone mad since you’ve left,” Hyle smiled, but it seemed serious. “Raving about things that don’t exist.”

“My father is very sensible. He wouldn’t rave.”  
“He’s mad, Brienne,” Hyle said in a short, impatient tone. “And it’s been in the works a long while. With all those things he does…”

Brienne bit her lip to keep her temper from flaring out, “It doesn’t matter, I’m home.”

“People are afraid you’ll go mad too,” Hyle said, watching her. Then he sighed, “Listen, consider this a warning, and a thank you for all the times you’ve given me water on a long, hot summer’s day.”

“A warning about what?” Brienne demanded, trying to fold another sheet.

“You’ll see,” Hyle said cryptically, nodding again at her and leaving.

Brienne did not like that.

“We need to leave now,” she ordered once she got back inside her cottage, thowing things into a set of luggage, “You’ll ride the mare, I will walk.”

“Brienne, what are you doing?”

“Something is going to happen tonight, I know it. Hyle warned me.”

Her father didn’t look surprised. “Oh they’re just trying to scare us off.”

“But I don’t care! We can stay in the castle with the Beast, he’ll take us in, and I have to return Arya to her mother safely.”

“I’m still not completely well, Brienne,” her father pointed out, although he looked rather pink and healthy to her. “We need to stay.”

She bit her lip, “One more day then. Only one.”

Her father agreed and then said, “You’re quite eager to get back to a Beast.”

Brienne ignored this while Arya giggled.

* * *

It was the middle of the night when she heard the knock. Blearily, Brienne lit a candle and threw on clothes tucking Arya into the pocket of a shirt, while attaching her sword to herself.

“What’s going on?” Arya asked, sounding almost as tired as Brienne.

“I don’t know,” Brienne said, although she had a very good idea. “We’ll find out.”

The banging on the door increased and so Brienne hurried to open it, finding a crowd larger than she had ever seen, with Ronnet at the front of it, his eyes gleaming. Hyle was hiding in the back, looking almost sheepish and Brienne decided to hate him.

“Why are you all here?” Brienne demanded before Ronnet could start his monologue.

“Ah, I heard you might be back,” Ronnet’s grin gleamed. “But that doesn’t matter right now, we’re here for your Father.”

“My father?” Brienne stared at him. “Why?”

“We heard he is mad and ill. He needs to go someplace that will take care of him, right Qyburn?”

Brienne had not noticed Qyburn standing next to Ronnet. “Quite right,” he muttered. “Quite right, indeed.”

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Brienne stated, wrapping her arms around her chest. “He’s tired from a long journey.”

“To save you from the Beast, I gather?” Ronnet grinned. “He raved to us all for weeks about you being kidnapped, I suppose he finally went off and tried to do it.”

Brienne stared into Ronnet’s cruel eyes, “My father is fine and well. Thank you all for your concern and now get off my property.”

Ronnet came up the steps and Brienne reached for the handle of her weapon.

“No reason to get violent, Brienne.”

“Come any closer and there will be a reason.”

“Brienne?” her father appeared behind her, looking tired and upset. “What is going on?”

“We’re here to collect you, Selwyn,” Ronnet said, “To take you off into the night, perhaps to the Quiet Isle Asylum. It’d be good for you.”

The Quiet Isle wasn’t a bad place, Brienne knew, but her father wasn’t mad and she doubted that they were taking him there. More likely, they were planning to take her father back to Qyburn’s lair to let Qyburn perform experiments on him as Qyburn did to the animals Ronnet brought back.

“Why?” her father asked, trying to puff up his chest. He looked so _old_ , Brienne worried.

“The Beast, Selwyn, can’t have you scaring off the ladies with tales of Beasts kidnapping maidens…. ugly ones or not.”

“I thought you’d be happy with less maidens,” her father snapped.

Ronnet struck her father before Brienne knew what was happening. “Stop it! Leave him alone. He’s not mad!”

Ronnet glared at her for a moment and then, chillingly, laughed. “Oh really? Then prove that the Beast is real then.”

_The mirror._

She had not glanced into it once since she had been home, too afraid to see inside it. To say his name.

But now she had to. To save her father... again. Hesitating, she went inside and grabbed it. She tried to be quick, so Ronnet and the mob wouldn’t take her father away before she could stop them.

Her father was being dragged down the stairs when she reached them all again. “Show me the Beast,” Brienne said in a clear, quiet voice.

The mirror flashed with a green, beautiful light, and there he was, looking sad and lonely in his rooms.

Her heart hurt looking at him.

The crowd cried out though and for a wild moment, Brienne thought they were reacting with empathy for the poor creature’s pain but then Ronnet hurried back to her, a look of pure viciousness appearing on his face. “He’s a monster!”

“No,” Brienne argued but was interrupted by another voice in the crowd.

“He’ll kill us all!”

“He’d never hurt anyone,” Brienne tried to say, but no one was listening.

That is no one but Ronnet, who grabbed the mirror away from her. Or tried to.

Smiling with a sudden realization, he said, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you have feelings for this monster. How wonderfully appropriate that he has a mate to bed… a beast for a beast.”

Brienne tore away from Ronnet, but he was able to hold onto the mirror. Gritting her teeth,fighting off the men who came out of the shadows and grabbed her shoulders, she called out, spitefully, in order to injure him, “He’s not a monster, you are!”

Ronnet only laughed at her words. The men who had grabbed her left her alone now, following Ronnet into the square. The mob that had come to take away her father joined them, looking even more terrified than they had before. Once terrified and angry about an old man, now sheer fright had come into their bones and their souls until they couldn't see sense. They couldn't see the Beast's kind eyes, they couldn't see his sadness, nor his humor. They couldn't see _him_ \- they could only see a monster. 

“We’re not safe until he’s dead.” Hyle whispered loudly, looking utterly horrified by the sight of the mirror.

A septa was hysteric. “He’ll come stalking us at night.”

“He’ll wreak havoc on the village if we let him wander free!” another voice called out.

“It’s time to take some action… it’s time to follow me,” Ronnet said, his features set in an ugly grimace, showcasing the mirror to the mob.

How could he dare to call Brienne ugly when he looked like that?

“He’d be an interesting specimen to study,” Qyburn said thoughtfully amongst all the angry and frightened voices.

Somehow the chill in his voice was the most terrifying voice of all. Brienne couldn’t let him near the Beast.

“I’ll kill you before I let you hurt an innocent creature.” Brienne drew out her sword to demonstrate this. She watched them all warily. There were so many of them, nearly all the village was here, and she worried. She didn’t want to harm any of them, not even Ronnet, but she didn’t want the only people kind to her die because of her mistake.

Ronnet didn’t bat an eye at her sword. “Take care of her, would you?”

Brienne felt something slam against the back of her head and then everything was black.

* * *

She awoke to find her father next to her.

“They locked us in the cart,” he said grimly. He coughed twice and Brienne grew angry.

“The cart — they can’t do this! It isn’t right! You’re still recovering!” She shook the boards, “Let us out!”

“There’s no one there.”

“Brienne?” Arya crawled out of Brienne’s pocket. “Are you ok?”

Brienne wanted to weep. “No, I’m not.”

“I think… I think I can do something,” Arya said. She hopped onto Brienne’s shoulder. “I think I can break the lock.”

Brienne blinked at the little needle. She looked to her father who shrugged. “Might as well try," he said.

Arya beamed and Brienne, carefully, brought Arya to the back of the cart. “The lock should be in front of there.”

“I know,” Arya stated, “And I know I can break it.” Her voice was strong and Brienne wished that the little girl she was could come out of the shape of the needle and be real.

“Thank you, Arya.”

Arya hopped onto the door and squeezed in between the wood and the door. Brienne waited, looking back towards her father worriedly. She did not want to responsible for losing the small girl.

But she didn’t have to worry, Arya had broken the lock.

“How did you do this?” Brienne asked, amazed as they all hopped out of the cart.

“It was easy. Just a little twist here and there. I’ve always known how to pick locks, although it’s a bit different when you are inside it.”

“You’re wonderful!”

“Enough of that,” Arya said, although she sounded pleased. “We have to save my family!”

Brienne straightened herself, “You’re right. Let’s go save them.”

“You really are a hero,” Arya said in awe.

Jumping out of the cart, Brienne shook her head solemnly. “No, I’m only Brienne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Howard Ashman for 1) helping to create a beautiful story (stories, really, considering on the other films/musicals he worked on) and 2) creating the best lyrics ever in the Mob Song. I love the lyrics in this particular song so much so that I had to include them in the dialogue. 
> 
> RIP Howard Ashman. I don't think you get enough credit for what you did for Disney and for the millions of people you've inspired. 
> 
> And thanks to you all for sticking with me. I hope you're still enjoying the story and that you're excited for the upcoming chapters!


	6. It is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is a hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading this earlier than planned. I already had the ending and beginning written but combining the two was easier than expected. So I hope you enjoy it!

When they arrived, the castle was in shambles. Villagers were screaming as the castle fell apart. They ran and ran away, even as pieces of furniture chased them out. Two men had pants that were on fire, while another looked like they had been clobbered by a harp — there were impressions of strings all along his face.

“This is strange,” Brienne’s father murmured, but Brienne didn’t have time to ponder it. _Where was Ronnet?_

“Look up,” Arya hissed. 

Brienne did. And was horrified by what she saw. “He’s just letting Ronnet kill him! Why?” _That’s not the Beast I know_ , Brienne wanted to say to them. The Beast would fight to the death. He would live. 

“I don’t know but you have to stop him,” Arya said. “Or else everything will be ruined.”

Brienne didn’t have time to figure out what that meant. “Take her,” she ordered her father, handing over Arya carefully, making sure not to drop her, “Find her mother.”

“What are you going to do Brienne?” her father asked, concerned. “You’re not wearing armor, only a sword, what can you do?”

“It doesn’t matter. He needs help.”

“Your help?” Her father’s gaze penetrated her and she felt like a little girl again, unable to keep a secret.

But all she did was nod. “Keep her safe, Father.” 

He climbed off the horse, “Keep yourself safe, Brienne.” He stopped and exhaled. “I can’t lose you again… especially not for his sake.”

Brienne wanted to argue, wanted to say that the Beast was more than that, but hearing the roars above her head, could do not let herself do anything but nod and rush up the stairs.

Her thighs felt tight and heavy as she dodged angry villagers and servants alike. Jumping over a carpet that was on fire, she noticed Tyrion.

“Hurry,” he yelled over the flames, looking more scared than Brienne could ever imagine. 

Pumping her legs, she reached the Beast’s room quickly, and there was only darkness. From outside on the balcony, Brienne could hear the sounds of growls and shouts and so hurried to reach them.

The Beast looked like he was fighting now, his claws tearing at Ronnet’s cloak as they stood out on a ledge on a balcony far from Brienne’s reach. They were off to the Eastern side of the castle and Brienne had no idea how to reach that side, so instead she just watched, looking for a way down to them. She was horrified to see that Ronnet did not look afraid. Brienne was almost afraid for him.

But much more afraid for the Beast who looked so tired and angry. 

“Ah, the freak is here,” Ronnet called out. 

The Beast moved back from Ronnet before retracting his claws, clenching his fist, and smacking Ronnet until he fell off the ledge and onto the balcony, his nose bloodied.

“Her name is Brienne,” the Beast snarled as he jumped back onto the balcony, looking terrible.

“We can stop, now!” Brienne said, but even as she spoke, Ronnet jumped to his feet and attacked the Beast. 

Brienne wanted to get involved, but still could not see a way down other than falling to her death. 

“Watch out!” she cried, but the Beast had already saw, kicking Ronnet’s legs.

Brienne couldn’t bear to watch anymore, so she ran back to the Beast’s room. With a little effort, Brienne grabbed some already torn up sheets and tied them together tightly with knots she had learned from her father. Then she brought the sheets to the balcony and tied them to the ledge, praying that it would work. 

The fighting looked worse than before, and now it was starting to rain, making everything slippery. It would only get worse if she waited.

Praying to all the gods she knew, Brienne flipped the sheets onto the side, and climbed down.

By the time she had reached them, it was over.

The Beast had won.

“Go and never return,” the Beast thundered at Ronnet. The Beast looked angry enough to murder Ronnet, yet was sparing him.

Ronnet glared back although now… now he did look afraid. 

The Beast turned away from Ronnet, and went to Brienne. “Brienne,” he whispered, so Ronnet could not hear. “You came back.”

“Of course I did —“ Brienne started to say, but with horror, saw that Ronnet meant to stab the Beast. She tried to block the knife, but Ronnet moved so quickly that the Beast was on the ground before she could do anything.

So instead of blocking the knife… her blade was now in Ronnet’s stomach. The blood was gurgling out of his mouth, and his eyes looked afraid.

He was dead the moment she pulled the sword out. Falling to the ground beside the Beast. She pushed him aside, trying not to shake too much, sitting next to the Beast and examining his wound.

“Are you all right?” the Beast asked, through labored breaths, as if she was the one who had been stabbed. 

“I’m fine,” she nearly snapped, trying not to cry. Was she crying for Ronnet, the Beast, or herself? 

“Forgive me,” the Beast half-smiled, although it looked too pained, “I wanted to be the hero, for once. But you beat me to it.”

“Of course I did,” Brienne said, trying not to show her worry.

“And of course you came back. You were always going to… weren’t you?” His smile disappeared, “Then why was I so worried you weren’t?”

“I don’t know, you should know better,” Brienne said, opening his shirt to see his wound better.

It looked bad.

“If you wanted to undress me, you could have just asked.” His cough was jerky and out of instinct, she grabbed his shoulder.

“You aren’t going to die. You’re going to live.”

“Why?” he smiled. “You already took my vengeance.”

_For me._

“If I only gotten here sooner,” Brienne said, to avoid saying what she truly thought, “I could have —“

“You did everything, Brienne. It’s better this way... I'm only a Beast.”

“How can you say that?” Brienne wasn’t sure if there were tears on her face or not, the rain was coming down so hard. “You can’t, you just can’t.”

The Beast looked at her sadly, “At least I got to see you again…”

“Why would you want to see me?” she asked, trying to jape, trying to make him do something, pulling his hand up to her cheek.

He held it there and he was so warm that it took her by surprise when it dropped out of her hand. His eyes were rolled back... and he was gone.

The tears she had been holding back came flooding out. **_“No.”_** she screamed at him. “You can’t leave.” Her brother’s face swarmed before her eyes, as well as her sisters’ and mother’s, she couldn’t lose another. “Don’t leave me, please, _please_ … I love you.”

From faraway, she could hear a drift of voices above her head, and knew that the others had found them, and were standing on the Beast’s balcony.

How was she going to explain this?

It didn’t matter, he was gone.

She held him a moment longer, feeling drained, but as soon as she let go…

Something happened. The Beast was not on the ground any longer, instead, he floated in the air looking unreal, looking strange… 

“Beast?” Brienne asked, unsure of herself. She took out her sword, still stained with Ronnet’s blood, as the Beast became enveloped in a cloud of green light. Slowly, his cape wrapped around himself, until she could see no trace of the Beast, and as it unfurled, revealing one limb at a time, Brienne was shocked to see human feet, and human hands and arms and legs…

And a human face.

He was beautiful, but that made Brienne even more afraid. Gripping her sword even harder, she moved towards him as he was gently placed upon the ground by mysterious hands. He shifted under the cape, and got up tenderly, the way a baby horse did.

Brienne could see the face better now without the unearthly green light and was terrified to see that he was even more beautiful than before. No man needed that much beauty. 

“Brienne?” the figure asked, coming towards her.

“Stay back,” she said, moving into a defensive position. “Who are you?”

He grinned, “You mean you don’t recognize me… wench?”

It couldn’t be. 

“It’s me,” he said, moving closer to her. The sword trembled in her hands.

He didn’t look like the Beast… he didn’t even sound like him. But there… there was _something_ … 

Brienne looked into his eyes and knew. “It is you,” she said, feeling quite stupid. “But how—“

“I think,” he said carefully putting her sword down, “That can be explained later.”

And then he pulled her down and kissed her.

She melted into it, grabbing his shoulders, before pulling apart, “But _how?”_ she asked in wonder. “How could this be?”

He laughed, “You ask how before you ask my real name?”

Brienne blushed. That thought had yet to occur to her, “Then what is it?”

“My name is Jaime,” he laughed, and with his laugh came another flood of unnatural light, enclosing on the castle turning it from the frightening home Brienne knew it to be, to a palace of white stone and beautiful stained glass.

Above her, she could hear cheers of jubilation. 

“We should join them,” Jaime said, “After you, Brienne.”

Within a few minutes of climbing back up, Jaime making terrible japes all the way (she supposed even a curse breaking couldn’t cure him of that), the scene was revealed. 

“Tyrion!” Jaime crowed, embracing a dwarf. A beautiful woman stood beside Tyrion and winked at Brienne.

A beautiful redheaded woman was surrounded by two girls, a bald man, and Brienne’s father, who looked amazed by all the changes. Almost as amazed as Brienne. One of the girls came up to Brienne and hugged her waist, “You did it, I knew you would.”

“Arya?” Brienne asked with caution, and the little girl grinned.

“It’s me! And I knew you would save us! I told you that you were a hero.”

Looking around, Brienne almost had to agree, “I suppose you were right all along.”

“Tell Sansa that,” Arya said, pointing out her redhaired sister, almost as fair as her mother. Sansa smiled shyly at Brienne. “She was afraid you wouldn’t do it.”

Brienne smiled back at Sansa, “I am not sure if I can blame your sister for that. He was a Beast.”

“I still am,” Jaime interrupted, “Sorry, _Stark_ , I must steal away my one true love, as the stories will say.”

Arya rolled her eyes before scampering off with a grin. Jaime took Brienne aside, into his room, which was not dark and frightening any longer, although most of the portraits were still broken. 

But Brienne could see the similarities between Jaime and them. Brienne placed a hand on her own face, feeling her large nose and her buck teeth, and sighed in disappointment.

“What are you doing?” The Beast - no… Jaime asked, his hands grasping her thick waist tighter than Brienne knew she could ever be held. It was wonderful.

“I was… wondering if I was beautiful now too,” she confessed in a whisper, half in jest, but truly… she had hoped… that maybe…

She expected him to laugh at her, the way he used to when she said something foolish when he was a Beast and she was just a girl, but instead he smiled, “You are.”

And then he kissed her until Brienne forgot she was ugly at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally a note from my outline regarding this chapter: "and then they kiss yay"
> 
> Anyways, next chapter is the "aftermath" chapter/epilogue. Brienne gets the who, what, when, where, and why of the curse, and Jaime deals with being a Prince again. Sort of. He's Jaime, he doesn't deal with that well. 
> 
> But anyways, thank you guys for all of your reviews and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	7. Beauty and the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They live Happily Ever After.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm leaving for, appropriately, Disney World in a few days, I figured it'd be nice to get this last chapter out before I go. So here you all are, the final/aftermath chapter and epilogue of this tale. This is basically a summary of who Jaime is and how he came to be the Beast in this universe. Mostly just Jaime & Brienne talking as well as a spot of conversation with Tyrion & Shae. 
> 
> Anyhow, please enjoy!

“You haven’t asked me yet.” The Beast— Jaime said to Brienne, a few days after she had saved him from the curse. 

Brienne was confused by his comment. “Asked you what?” 

“Asked me what?” Jaime grinned. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. It was almost horrifying how beautiful he was — especially compared to Brienne. “Why I was a Beast, of course!”

“Oh.” Brienne thought this over, watching him carefully. He was sitting across from her on the edge of the balcony, as if he couldn’t fall. Even after a brush with death, he was still the same. “Do you want to tell me?” 

“Of course I do! You’re my judge,” he said playfully, although Brienne was horrified to realize that he was actually quite serious. His mouth may have formed a smirk, but his eyes were steady and solemn.

“I have no right to be your judge,” she said, moving away from him.

He resisted this, and placed his hand in her own, leaving his seat to do so. “You love me, don’t you? Don’t try to wiggle out of it, I heard you say it.”

She felt her turning as red as the jacket he wore — his house colors, she had learned in the days since his transformation. “I do.”

“Then you’ll have to bear it.”

“If you want me to hear it, I will,” Brienne said. “But I do not have to hear it.”

“But you will hear it all for me?” Jaime’s smirk was wide. “I am blessed to have such a doting, young bride.”

Brienne didn’t know what to say to that and so fell silent. 

“And so quiet and modest,” Jaime added. “One would almost think she wasn’t doting at all, but, in fact, quite dumb and mute. Possibly even a wench instead of a bride.”

“Stop it,” Brienne groused, pulling her hand away from his, although she mourned the lack of his contact. “Just tell me what you’d like me to hear.”

“I wouldn’t like you to hear it,” Jaime said, his face straightened in an annoyed expression. “But you must hear it. You saved me from the curse, you have a right to know how it began.”

“Fine.” Brienne said, actually very curious about it all. “Go ahead.”

“Well, it should start with a classic styling like once upon a time, shouldn’t it? Once upon a time, I was a horrible brat.”

“You still are.”

“Don’t interrupt your elders. As I was saying,” Jaime said, still smirking, “I was the sort of being that would interrupt his elders. I didn’t read, nor did I enjoy any other scholarly activities. I wanted to be a Knight, not a Prince.”

“So… you are a Prince,” Brienne had never been entirely sure. 

“Oh yes, me and Tyrion both, with a kingly Father to match. But I did not want to be King. I still don’t. I don’t even think it’s a good idea, but that’s a tale you and I shall write together.”

Brienne squirmed at that comment but said nothing as Jaime continued his story, “I wasn’t good. I ran off one day as a boy to join some wandering knight… butI made it no farther than where I found you fighting off wolves in the forest. My father found me.”

“The King?”

Jaime’s response was curt. “Yes. He was the one. He stopped me from leaving and had the knight killed in front of me.”

Brienne was horrified. But Jaime just kept speaking, “The poor man didn’t even know that I went looking for him after he visited us. But he suffered all the same.”

“Your father didn’t care?”

“He wanted to prove a point to me. A Knight’s life is up to his King isn’t it? Dying in his service. There was no difference between this and sending him off to war in my Father’s mind.”

“But —“

“There is a difference, I know it and so do you,” Jaime responded. “But my Father ignored it. And had the man hung. My sister…” Jaime stopped. 

“You had a sister?”

“Have, for all I know she’s still alive,” he said, attempting to sound casual. But he was bothered the idea of that she could be dead - Brienne could see it in his eyes. “She was my twin, my best friend… and well, I’ll get to that soon. But she enjoyed the sight of my father’s power. I think she wanted to be like him, but I didn’t understand that then. When I asked her why she smiled when the man died, she said it was because she didn’t want to lose me. That she would kill anyone who would tear us apart.”

Brienne didn’t understand. “But if she loved you, wouldn’t she let you leave? Wouldn’t she be happy for you?”

Jaime laughed, but it was joyless. “Oh, Brienne, there are many types of love and not all of them are as true as ours.” She blushed at that and his smile softened until it was completely genuine. “Nor are all people as pure as you.”

Thinking of Ronnet, Brienne sighed. “I know that.”

“I don’t know if you do,” Jaime said, his smile disappearing. “I found out later she was the one who told my Father that I left. I had only told her and Tyrion but I suspected neither of them, I thought my Father just knew somehow. He seemed to know everything. But she told him.” His voice was quiet. “I told her in confidence… in bed.”

Brienne was confused. “In bed?”

A cruel smirk, a beast-like one, appeared on his face now. “We were lovers, Brienne.”

Brienne remembered the torn portrait that hung in one of the castle’s formally dark halls.That was Jaime’s family, Brienne knew now, his father, Tyrion, his twin sister… who was also his lover.

She was beautiful. 

And his _sister._

“Are you going to say something, Brienne?” he asked. “Do you love me less now? Do you love me at all?”

“Of course I do,” Brienne retorted, her mind swarmed with horrible images. “I’m just trying to _understand._ ”

“Of course you are. No one else would do that, no one but you.” There was a strange tint to his voice that sounded almost like wonder. “So you can see how I ended up as a Beast, a sister-fucker—” Brienne winced at the phrasing, “a reckless boy, a wannabe knight, an arrogant fool.” 

“But?” Brienne asked desperately, knowing that he had a good heart, “How did magic come to infiltrate your home?”

Jaime’s smile ebbed. “Blame me again. Because I did become a warrior despite the meddling of my family and I journeyed to tourneys across the lands, all of them, meeting Kings and Queens and Princes and Princesses. My sister was not fond of this and neither was my Father but they were unable to stop me when I had a sword in my hand. With each tourney win, the head on my shoulders grew larger until I could barely walk through doors.”

“I killed men accidentally in one tourney and the King there was so _impressed_ ,” Jaime’s scowl was strong, “by these deaths at my hand that he knighted me and asked me to serve him. He asked me to abandon all my duties as the Crown Prince and to give them all to Tyrion. Which I had always wanted, anyhow.” 

“You truly never wanted to be King?” Brienne asked.

“I don’t even want to be a Prince,” he said. “I wanted to run off with my sister into the woods and be together. I wanted to fight bandits and save maidens.” A small smile appeared, “Only maidens, though.”

Brienne rolled her eyes.

“So when this King asked me to serve him, I agreed out of sheer arrogance, pride, and rebellion. My father was furious but could do nothing when I was so far and when I had already promised to serve. But he probably laughed when it all ended with me becoming a dishonorable murderer.”

Taken aback, Brienne opened her mouth to speak but Jaime stopped her. “No, I was, I murdered the King I was supposed to protect.”

“But why?” Brienne asked, horrified. 

“He was going to kill them all,” Jaime said grimly. “He was going to invade all the other Kingdoms. He planned to burn the homes and villages. He would have burned your home as well, I remember Tarth being on the list.”

“He spoke of this in front of you?”

“He spoke of much in front of me. All of it terrible.”

“So you left the Kingdom… afterwards, I mean?” 

“His eldest son took over after I did my deed. That man was kind and wise and understood why I did what I did, and sent me off. The rest of his family was not so kind.”

“So not long after I came back here to this intimidating castle I called home, there was a cold brutal night filled with guests and servants including Northern visitors like Catelyn and her daughters. I was alerted to an old woman who came to the door asking to see me. When I was informed she was no one of importance I told them to send her away. My Father and sister would have been proud if they had been here, but they left to meet some prospective suitor of hers. But the old woman came back again to the castle the next night, ignoring my earlier actions, and out of curiosity and annoyance and I came to her.”

Jaime stopped and looked at Brienne hard. “I know you think you are ugly, but truly, this woman was the ugliest creature that ever lived. I was unable to look her in the eye as I told her to leave.”

 Brienne didn’t know what to make of that. “What did she want?”

“She wanted lodging but we had none but my sister’s rooms due to all the guests we had and I could not imagine my sister welcoming the sight of an old woman in her bed. But when I told her this, the woman offered me a rose.”

“The rose,” Brienne nodded. “I understand.” The rose was the key to the curse. Its petals were gone, in fact, Tyrion had told Brienne that only a few seconds after she confessed her love for Jaime, that the last petal had fallen and the cursed truly feared all was lost then. 

But she had saved Jaime in time. 

“She handed me the rose, or rather, tried to because I refused it and ordered her to leave and never come back. That is when,” he sighed, “that is when she turned into the daughter of the King I murdered.”

Brienne did not expect that. “What?" 

Jaime smiled sadly. “She was the most beautiful woman who ever lived, outshining even my sister, with violet eyes and hair white as the snow that drifted outside. She was a kind, little thing at the palace although I didn’t pay her too much mind, my head still full of my sister. But her heart was beautiful and good. However, her eyes were not beautiful that night, they were too full of fire and blood. She was full of the idea of vengeance against me for murdering her father. I don’t know if she didn’t understand her father’s plans or if she was as mad as he was, but she cursed me with magic I didn’t even know existed, cursed me and the entire castle.”

“That’s horrible! The others did nothing!” Brienne said.

Jaime’s mouth quirked up, “And I did?”

“You could have just let her in,” Brienne said, “You do live in a castle with armed guards. She would have slept anywhere.”

He laughed, “This is why I need you.” Brienne sighed and he laughed again, “But she was not completely horrible, as I said, she had a heart of kindness. She gave us a way to breakthe curse.”

“Me?”

Jaime smiled. “You. Although I don’t know if she had intended it to be you all along or not. One day we’ll have to find her and find out. But she promised that if I had learned to love another, truly love another, and earn their love in return, I’d be free of the curse.”

“As I had never spoken to anyone about my love for my sister, I assumed that the little princess didn’t know about my sister and that once my sister and I proclaimed our love out loud for one another, we’d be free of the terrible curse. So I did not worry at first even as the princess gave me a mirror to watch the world with.”

Jaime’s smile was grim, “But then my Father and sister came home with their men, and Father railed against me and did nothing to help other than abandon me for one of our other castles. My sister though, she didn’t even know me at first, and ordered me killed. But, to her credit, I suppose, she professed she loved me when I told her of the curse’s cure. And then nothing happened, and she broke apart, blaming _me_ for leaving her and bringing this curse to the home. Even though if I hadn’t left our homeland, that mad King would still have been alive, bringing war to our home, which I suspect is much worse than a contained curse.”

“I’m sorry,” Brienne said. “I’m sorry she didn’t understand you.”

Jaime blinked. “What?”

“She didn’t understand your heart,” Brienne said, very uncomfortable. It was still difficult to talk to Jaime despite loving and knowing him. But he was so beautiful now that she had a hard time saying what she thought. She had a hard time looking at him, let alone speaking to and touching him. 

He thought over what she said and Brienne waited. “You may be right,” he confessed after a few moments. “I thought we were the same, she and I, but I would have never abandoned her to a castle like this. Even if the key to breaking the curse was true love and I couldn’t free her from it for some reason. I’d be broken, but I’d defend her to my death.”

Jaime shook his head and sighed heavily, looking tired. “So my sister left with my Father and I never heard from them again. He abandoned this part of his kingdom, which I’m sure you noticed in Tarth.”

Brienne nodded. “We called this castle cursed because we couldn’t imagine what else drove the King away.”

“And for once the people were right.” Jaime didn’t seem too happy about that, but quickly moved forward. “But that is my horrible, sad tale. If you’d like to leave me, I will not blame you.”

“What did you do all these years… trapped as a Beast?” Brienne asked.

Jaime smiled, as though he was amused by her worries. “Slept, ate, sharpened my claws, ignored everyone else, too angry, too ashamed, and too broken to be any worthwhile companionship. Tyrion attempted a few times but even he gave up on me, finding love with Shae instead.”

“And now… what will you do?”

“My father and sister are probably alive in their castle. I’m sure shortly they will appear with tears in their eyes, promising their love and devotion, well, not Father, I’m thinking more of Cersei,” Jaime stopped. “That’s her name.”

“What should we do then?”

“We should leave,” Jaime said. “I have no interest in seeing them, if they are still alive.”

Brienne was distraught. “But, they’re your family.”

“And they abandoned me,” Jaime said. “Maybe one day, I will be able to come back to them, but for now, all they’ll want to do is groom me into being something I’m not. And Cersei would be horribly cruel to you. I could not stand to see that.”

“I’ve dealt with cruelties before,” Brienne said but Jaime shook his head.

“Not like Cersei.”

Brienne mulled over this. “Where would you like to go then?”

“Yes, brother, where would you go?” Tyrion asked, appearing almost out of nowhere, with Shae following behind him.

After knowing the man as a candlestick, Tyrion as a dwarf was quite a relief.

Jaime grinned at his brother. “Where would you recommend?”

“Somewhere far from Father and Cersei, especially since Father will want to begin training you as his heir very quickly,” Tyrion said dryly. 

“Across the Narrow Sea, perhaps?” Shae suggested. 

Jaime looked to Brienne, “Would that suit you?”

“But my Father,” Brienne protested. “What would happen to him?”

“He can come with us,” Jaime shrugged. “Why not? You and I shall marry,” he smiled at Brienne’s blush, “and then venture off to the other side of the world, before my Father can get his hands on me and start trying to groom you into something you’re not. The only thing he’ll do is bring out the Beast in me.”

“They’ll have to deal with a monster of a different kind now,” Tyrion japed. “Me.” 

Shae glared at Tyrion while Jaime laughed, “That is enough of that.”

“Thank you, brother,” Jaime said sincerely after his laughter had finished. The two men looked at each other with a wealth of love. “You have been too good to me.”

“I still think I got the better end of the bargain,” Tyrion said. “All the hair you had? Would have been horrible to clean. I only melted when it got too hot, quite an easy fix.”

“But you know what a hairy chest means,” Jaime said, his eyebrows raised in mock innuendo.

“A hairy back,” Tyrion replied. “Don’t try to beat me at this game, brother, I am smarter than you.”

Tyrion left them with that to think over, Shae following him although she was sighing all the while. Jaime turned to Brienne with a bemused expression. “Always trust Tyrion to leave after he’s gotten the last word,” Jaime said. 

“But we’re the ones leaving.” Brienne decided. Jaime’s eyes lit up.

“You are all right with leaving then? I wasn’t sure if you would be.”

“I don’t need to stay in this castle forever, I dislike being trapped in one place… I always have been stuck in one place after all,” Brienne said, thinking of Tarth, “I’d like to see the world.”

Jaime smiled softly, “Perhaps we’ll follow the Northerners home, I’m sure you would do well there." 

Brienne thought of Catelyn and her daughters. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Or perhaps we should follow Olenna home to the South, where the warm breeze can hit our cheeks.”

“If you’d like,” Brienne said.

Jaime roared with laughter and it was as if the Beast was back in the room. “Give me an opinion, wench, I’ll follow wherever you’ll go.”

Brienne’s heart thumped. She had never imagined anyone saying that to her. “Even if I said Beyond-the-Wall?”

“I wouldn’t be happy about it, I’d complain with every frozen step, but I’d follow you, dragging your Father behind me, if you’d like.”

Brienne turned pink and Jaime laughed again.

“Pink really isn’t your color,” he said carelessly, reaching over to grab her hand, as if to soothe any worries his comment may have awoken. 

“Let’s go North and escort the ladies home,” Brienne said.

Jaime smiled, “Catelyn won’t be happy about that. Not regarding you, of course, me.”

“Perhaps it’s because you don’t call her Lady Catelyn.”

Jaime tightened his grip on her hand.“Is this what love is? You correcting me at all times?”

Brienne narrowed her eyes, “Would you rather me let you be wrong?”

His thumb ran circles over her own as he captured her with a smile. “Never, wench. Correct me as much as you’d please.”

“For how long?” she asked, breathless as his gaze penetrated her.

“Until the end of time.” And to seal this promise of eternal nagging, Jaime kissed her.

* * *

_Epilogue_

Rumors of a Beast dying and haunting a castle filled the ears of a King and a Princess, who went home to see if the truth was accurate.

They never found out it wasn’t. 

The Beast had disappeared from the castle and all the rumors confirmed that he was dead and gone, killed by a hunter. The King was irate and demanded the hunter’s head but was disgruntled to hear that the man was murdered by a jealous lover. So instead, he took the heads of the mob that had overrun his castle and only the youngest Prince’s steady hand prevented the town from burning completely. 

The Princess soon left her old childhood home for she was already married to a King in a faraway land. Uncaring that the rest of the castle was transformed to normal, saddened by her brother (and former lover’s) death, and also (still) angry that he had become cursed in the first place, the Princess went to her husband’s castle, never to be seen by the Beast again. 

The youngest Prince became the sole heir, much to the King’s irritation, but once the King was dead ( _as all men must die_ ), the youngest Prince proved to be the wisest King that had ever been seen. Tyrion the Cunning and Tyrion the Wise were the names he was called, as well as Tyrion the Imp (solely by those who disliked the changes the good King installed into the realm).

The Beauty and her Beast traversed the world, guiding friends, former guests, and servants back to their homes, only going back to the castle once the Beast’s father had left this world for the next. The Beauty's father stayed behind in the castle, becoming the Royal Inventor for both Kings that inhabitated the castle. 

Soon enough, the Royal Inventor became a beloved Grandfather, only a year after his daughter returned to the castle, her husband the Beast following behind her, as he promised to do evermore.

And somewhere in the world, a young Enchantress, with hair as light as silver and eyes as purple as amethysts, _smiled._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the nice thing about writing fairy tales and fanfiction and the like is that I can make them all live happily ever after. Esp. since it certainly won’t happen that way in canon. 
> 
> Anyways, I always thought the Enchantress in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast had a specific girl in mind for the Beast, so I kind of played with that thought here, although I think I only hinted at it, so you can interpret how you’d like. Authorial intent only means so much after all. 
> 
> And with that, I hope you all enjoyed this little story. I know it’s not the most original take on Beauty and the Beast but that was done quite purposefully if I’m being truthful. I like inserting characters in scenes we know quite well to see if anything drastically changes. It’s almost kind of a mind-twister for me as a writer. Perhaps one day I’ll write a more original take of Beauty and the Beast for these two, but, to be honest, I’m quite pleased with how this ended up coming out. It’s not perfect, but I enjoy it and I hope you all did too. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reviewed and left kudos, you guys kept me going.


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